you've been on my mind all day
i am out, wandering thoughts of you on my brain
what is it you'll have to say?
i'm running through rain, out here it is grey
but soon ill be home, i'll be drenched

these puddles have me thinking
if i open your mouth
what might come out?
but i dont want to do the talking
just put your lips on mine
lets work this out

when i get home, i can't wait to let it all go
soon i'll undress, open you up and get inside of you
follow your lead, do whatever you suggest
reading between those **** lines
in the glow of the lamplight
we'll close the door, leave the world behind

find the place where there is no telling
where i end and you begin
rediscovering what is ours over and over again
a new slant rhyme? yes baby
each stroke feels like the first time
your curves ever evolving in my fingers
i scratch deep lines. no self control,
never knowing where you will take me next
what shape might you make
where your lines will blur and break
..is this ***?
its a language only we can speak
whats happening here no one needs to know,
unless we want them to.
right now its just me and you
my eyes follow your every move
we press in sync, perfect harmony ensues
i can't deny myself
i put my all into you

A reading from the book of Ashlyn, daughter of Mark.

In the name of my Father
(Who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name):
Ritual calls a lighter to a cigarette
It pulls the calloused flesh of its thumb over the metal striker
Igniting the air it breathes, exciting a dull glow
A puff of recognition lays down on the exhale
Soon there will be ashes. It settles like smoke.

When the smoke settles
The Room is void.
The walls move in and
Swallow him holy, moving in
Relentless rythmic contraction
A chorus of prayer, annointing the sick
Let us paint crosses in the ashtray.

"Ahhhhh-men."

coughing

In the name of the daughter:
He tries to avoid the ritual,
But the chants persist
He is a sinner.
Only blood can cleanse him
He partakes

May the Spirit be with you.
"And also with you."
We lift our glasses to the Lord.
"It is right to give Him thanks and praise."

The room goes silent.
Observation of prayer.

In the name of the Holy Spirit:
The blood of Christ compels a drink
The spirit makes my father new
He is no longer man.
Now, he is exorcised by the spirit.
Praise be to God in his slurred speech
And peace to this person on earth
His sunken eyes. His swollen belly.
God, is he your Mary?
Is this your beautiful creation? Your masterful plan?
God, am I your son? I think so.
I stretched my arms out to you.
It seems you left me hanging.
You, the only father who has ever forsaken me. Why?

when i tell my mom
"i have a date tonight"
she has one comment:
"whatever you do,
DON'T wear THAT
old sweater
with the geese all over
or THOSE
brown horse hoove shoes
CLANGING like the kentucky derby
with each step
those ones that the bottoms fell out of"
i sigh, wrap the phone cord around my neck
HANG it up, on the shelf
my hope, dignity, cares, whatever
LOOK, a chest
masked by geese flock
feet turned to hooves
a MATING DISPLAY
that only ever works
the lady in the mirror
when she looks
she sees the tips of mountain tops
etched in leather
is taken back to times
where the only sound
was the clank of boots on ground
        the scrape of rocks
        sun on face
where the only sound
was geese on the water
        no where else to be
        but right here, right now
where the only sound
was the ooh and aahs
         of my best friend
         with a big pearly smile
         when i dug it out
         of the giant blue bin
         at the pay-by-the-pound
         laughing while we spun
         theories of eldery ladies
         of its PAST
she mouths to me
"i like your birdleneck"
i mouth to her
"i like you"
and walk out the door

"Sometimes I think I have felt everything I'm ever gonna feel. And from here on out, I'm not gonna feel anything new. Just lesser versions of what I've already felt." - Theodore Twombly, Her

no idea where i am and
no idea where i am going
just a tank full of gas
and the patter of rain
just me and time and space
no plans, no destination

i dont know you yet
not even your name
but i whisper sweet
nothings to the wind
hoping you are listening
hoping you are too
waiting for the wind
to carry you home