Friday, November 02, 2007


i know about 7th grade when you were in a bank and wanted to be like all the older creatures taking paystubs and handing out cash and receipts. you were holding onto a secret. you had seen the movies, knew the easiest way to rob them, but you didn't do that.


last night i was dreaming i was awake. really awake. i was under the covers with you and you turned a soft light on and i thought you were saying something but the words became a lullabye and i had to close my eyes to keep myself from falling asleep. an ex girlfriend sang me that song but i didn't tell you, i waited a while and then you closed your eyes and i started singing on key.


i thought, what if we were in a rain forest again. could a lullabye stop the squawk of an angel? not everything that flies is an angel, you said.

nearly every morning i am making love to a part of you. i am making love to your arm and then your hair and then tomorrow i'll be in love with your arms and then your hair. do you know what in love is? is that the work you do?, you asked.

nearly every morning the world is closer to inspiration and there is no one but a coin dropping and then splashing when it becomes the nucleus of a puddle. and nearly every morning i am possessed by your knees and then your calves and then just the smoothness of a blessing.

look, say goodbye.


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