I search for your face
in this sea of people and your voice
lulls me closer
even if
I haven’t heard it
yet.

You are like
Something along the lines of
Hopeful sips of light
A drink to keep me up
All night, because the dark
Never minded company

Or maybe a line in a song
That goes
"I'll tell you one thing,
It's always better
When we're together"
Because the truths
Are in the music
Of love and life

A bolt of lightning
Across the rainy skies
Of this lonely state
A rebellious ember
Who sits, smoldering
With the heat of held hands
Even when the others have
Gone cold

A free spirit
Who strums out the chords of;
Can this be so?
And the question isn't yours
Because you already played;
Of course
And the smile that crosses my face
Is as genuine as
The words that follow

Just as a prince will battle
For his princess
In far off lands
Dulling his blade on bones
Of lust and envy
I will see you
And know that the most
Difficult valley to traverse
Is worth my time
If when I come to the end
You are there

Once again
I am brought to reality
With another smile
And throughout my head
Run the same words
Over and over and over
A beautiful song on repeat

*I love you

I thought something
Was wrong with me.
I'm writing so
Seriously.
Reading poetry
Religiously.
Lines invade
When I'm retiring,
Ascending I'm reciting,
Divining parallel parables.
I'm convinced  
He's left the stage,
Replaced by me
On the page,
In figures of speech.
The Chosen words,
Give meaning and comfort
Religion obscured.

When Jesus ate asparagus
Did his *** smell like mine;
When he ate a plate of cabbage,
As was often in his habit,
You didn't sense Divinity
In sublime proximity.
When he talked of sowing seeds,
Did the Magdalene accede ?
I know this sounds quite absurd
Talking about the living Word,
But when he ate a plate of beets
His ***** incarnadined.
(Perhaps that's how he made the wine).
And when he had a private dump
He wiped with The Roman Times.

Did Jesus use a hankie
When he blew his nose,
Or did he place ******* there,
They say God only knows.
Or if he thought he wasn't seen,
He might well use his gaberdine.

When he bathed in Jordan,
Did he clip his toes?
I haven't read this anywhere,
The Bible won't disclose.

Yes, he really was a man,
Doing the same, as I Am.
If he were here,
We could be friends,
We'd hear a joke,
Crack a cask,
Share a smoke.
I don't believe
We'd say Amen.

Oafie lingers before his mirror
Pointing at the slinger Dillinger,
In his black suit,
******* his loot,
He won't go in there.

Then Oafie puts an old coat on,
Posing before his cheval,
Sharing jokes with Robert Duvall,
Who lights a smoke for Lauren Bacall,
Who say his coat fits well.

I know this seems humorous,
But Oafie isn't left too much;
His acuity is out of touch.
But he played guitar like a harp,
Which sadly isn't that far off.

For now the famous visit often.
He shuffled stepts to classic Sinatra,
With Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers.
I'll visit Oafie one last time,
And slip a mirror in his coffin.