Someone asked me the other day
"Do you like her?"
I thought for a second and smiled,
"Yes, yes I do."

"God, you're such a lesbian!"
I smiled and replied with,
"I know."
And kept on walking.

Later in the day
People were staring at me
And
Calling me names.

I held my head up
High
And smiled.

Nobody will stand in my way.

A wise man once said, "Water always wins."
     He's right.
For a long time I didn't know what you were.
     What you still are.
I never really thought about it. But now I know.
     You're water.
I did so well in the beginning. You were only a drizzle.
I carried my umbrella those first few days. But I must
have lost it along the way.

I ignored the raindrops for awhile, but you were
a force of Nature.

It began to pour, and you covered me.
You seeped into my very core, infecting
me like the Waters of MARS.

You were patient and persistent. You penetrated
my foundation, ripped open cracks, rotted the wood.
     And what's a body or soul with decaying support?

Water waits. Water cuts through mountains, carving canyons.
     You cut through me to make this.

What am I now? An eroded frame of what I once was?

That piece of mountain that you washed away, where
did it end up? Is it with you now?
      Can I stand without it?

Have you left a deep crevice, a permanent scar?
Have you ruined me forever, or can I still be
     as beautiful as the Grand Canyon?

There was a squandering ember that climbed her spinal chord
and lit the deteriorating birchwood on the peach-fuzzed tea lamps.

When those stairwells cramped and swelled with staggered liquid terraces
in the foundational pin-cushion that cradled family after family.

Woe begone chants that railed support beams moaning under elemental abuse.

A litter of ghost kittens coiling underfoot where the rug
used to yawn before the grandfather clock,
now senile and rotting with absent-minded tick-tocks.

Inside her streetcorner, the music was that
monkey hopping to street ***** blue notes on somber ropes.

The air thick with the regal, chunky vibe
of batting eyes, flirty sighs, and bourbon.

Between the buildings again...
embraced with the same warm feeling that
entrances your fingertips, lips, and ears when within a man's arms.

In this city, Love is those two birds on that same powerline
that bowed and ebbed with summer's sweet sigh.