edge of skin dissolute

you look like a human, i'ma treat you that way
no matter how many
dishes you have to scrape clean or how many screws
are being turned. you wash up the mess
clean the shit off the baby's backside you do
what needs done, buss the table, deliver the pizza
to the homebound woman growing into the sofa.
she never tips . her skin is paisley upholstery,
her eyes beg for a can of gas and a match. you don't. she never tips.



we sit on the grass in the park. shakespeare's taming
of the shrew on a college set inside a summer's eve, without
mic. it's rather pretentious and you can't even hear
half the words beneath gull and baby wails, motorboats docking
undocking, planes landing on the airstrip. but i love it
because it's art and the sky is roses and plumbago and your eyes
are tri colored and browns with a smattering of lost.
you were never more
real than when you weren't with me. lost
in the center of your own universe.
a high flute note barrows thru my veins.
we kiss like we're onstage.



we were talkin god
cuz for some reason i'm all smitten with this idea
of the mystic.

so i ask you
isn't praying kind of selfish?
i mean it seems
that people are always askin
for something or saying god
buy me a mercedes or something.
nods to janis, yuh . and then you say
well when i pray
i release it. puzzled, i inhale
more of the blunt. blow it in your
face. lay the butt on the grass between us.
you pick it up, casual. a police car slides
by on the road to our right. we're silhouettes
on a grassy knoll between two stands of oaks.
the sky is the cloudless shiny
blue of the insides of bruises . moon
the edge of fish scale hung
above the half built condos
when i want something
you say
i pray for release. you throw your hands out
wrists to the sky, meal for a knife. i give it
away and
several lifetimes later analise, i realize what you mean.
how you fell into your name.
the way your skin smells citrus and pale
against the revelations in the sunset
a disc discovered in the small storms
pouring from our closed eyes
clothed with auras of madness
can you feel
this
i breathe
you and you
exhale me.

the clouds in the distance are battles
raged on the end of the world. the shock wave
and radiaton haven't reached
where we stand, nestled and balanced like a dali
cliff, a big grasshopper hanging from your head
like a hat. why not yours you ask from across the steady bang
of a door flapping in the wind. we kiss and recover
on a field of white snow and blue crocus. rivulets collect
into puddles on the window, sliding by as times we've spent
melting one into the other, oh remember the way
that special one magnifed the mountaintop with your city's name
pulsing along the intersate, signalling a cloverleaf
of our bodies, together again, like something
ordained by traffic and movement.