Luke warm bath verse. Can your fingers live on my thumb peninsula forever I hope. You groom me and I'll dump the water over your head. Sit in front of me, I like the way it feels when it pokes your back awkwardly. It's weird to me, only your toes wrinkle. I can be the hot towel and kisses on your eyelids. The morphine calls my veins, while you don't call my name. Ours was unlike anyones. It still is to me and the trailing cries of women who I tried to **** my heart out of your hands. Like shucking emptiness from already emptied containers. I'm living for the day I feel your hands on my face again. Again.

Every day I wake up searching for the sound of your smile, in a
Photograph my fingers ran through your hair, golden rays of sunlight on
Pebbles each its own drop of sand, shone to these eyes in radiant night.
There was a time I remembered how to talk to you. I just can't get there anymore. I cross the street, use the cheat sheets, the pictures, the prose, and even an event like today doesn't hold a flame to the brightness transcending our time shared at all.

The Deerfield keeps me. My eyes follow the treeline testing my wit, tossing new exemplary corybantic lights. They zoom around me in hurried whirling motion. Then you appear. You can have my moon and my planets, my stars, and I haven't even spoken yet. In the midst of an earnest offering to the first of three heavy drinking boisterous uneasy types. I tell the stranger I'll drive him the, but what- .2 miles to his home- and your light exaserbates my speech.

Maybe you thought I'd go for your nose, but I'm after your breath. Rightly so, too many men have squandered much of the joy from being superfluously strangely with strangers. The drunk party exits screen left, and a new character, a Kennedy evolves from the shadows.

[This is where you begin conducting]

My thoughts brim with colors, patterns, shades, and hues. I paused to take in these profound chakras I thought had become the desiccate dusty footprints, walking around Foley's pond trying to find the best fishing hole through the rough and tangled undergrowth that consumed those hours of my life.

Your writing is far better than mine was at your age.
There is depth and richness in the vocabulary you choose.
Let me kidnap you for a day, present you with the places I like to let
My eyes gaze upon. Between the thatchwork of black and white and gray.

Where are my hands? The Earth is at my back, she begs me
To pry further, to know better the rejuvenating handy-work she
Has laid before me, and the noncom I mustn't reject either.

I cannot sleep. I wouldn't want to sleep if I could. I would reject it as I am. Drive until daylight casts morning into memory, I would recreate another
Fifty of exceptionally raw and indulgent exchanges. This is before the questions begin.

I inquiry myself to draw your story through the sparseness of details I ferociously gobbled up with excitement and profound wonder. I am absent in my own hours, and  yet there is frothy balance, no bedevilments of the flesh, but even so we are only the skin and bone and makings of human. I commit to protect you from harm and show you beauty and humor amidst the chaos and crisis of life's evolution. It is your excruciating curiosity and lack of fear that draws me ever more near.

Fiery free moments
Are coming for me
They took us to London
Then New York City

As clear as the gel pens
You had while you lived in the sticks
Along with Slip'n'Slide
All the boys you played with
Always paid for your tricks

When the bizarre ill-willing troche
Trap men in their snares, and everywhere
it seems everyone's begin to stare.
Into my eyes (As a tug boat and its bride)
My dad's corduroy ties (In the closet upstairs in the basement)
You wouldn't dare, would you? You wouldn't dare

I embraced the tide that took away our guts
                                                              our stuff
                                            when        enoughs enough
                                                              enoughs enough

So carry around your game in handwritten pamphlets
While you delve into the reasons you didn't want them laminated
When I spoke to Commander Owens ("Let's say the town didn't go wild")
But rather you and I I
Left too long perhaps another time

Remember, Remember
Recital time's at noon
The pianists' laminate cut off the last bar and he's starting in 2(2)
The priest asked Justin if he'd come in earlier too
Venomously he cast aside the bride and groom
So we played Slip'n'Slide for the wedding party in our living room

Dancers start on the left then double-back with the left inside
Turn their bodies, dip their hips, restart and double-back to the right
But before the wedding party, she proposed to him with his favorite song
In the San Francisco Airport arrivals, when he turned the stereo on
Parked at curbside pickup laid down and started Slip and Sliding.

She's in love with a bird but she doesn't even know how to fly. Five times in persistence I gave fingertips and fingertips, thousands of eyelashes, more than 700 changes of the guard. Three years of talking about the flowers in the post, the letters on the dresser, and a firm ruler over the top of our hands. Death's saliva plagues us thru the night. Into morning, the rain soaked our mattress and pillows, my lips are chapped, peeling like chipped paint off a 20th Century bathtubs' feet. I tip over the hourglass but the time does not reset. Our sisters become even more valuable than ever. Each year adds one more invisible number to the rest, and still we don't know how fast the train moves.

Pleasure dwellers and Jeep keepers. Relics of the 90s still left in cardboard boxes. It's the drugs that make time tolerable, but Tylenol sadly doesn't qualm the ails of an inevitably ending world. We ate pizza, drank wine, and kissed all the time. As time would tell, I don't actually have dibs over your left breast, but I really would've liked to, though I'm not sure where I'd put it.

I got a tattoo of the bird put onto a branch, it didn't seem right to take it's friends away, after all it had been through, I couldn't bring myself to say there'd be no more songs coming. A little empty house, with just a table, one nest, and some sunflower seeds in the cupboard. That might be something that would have been offered to someone nicer, more sweetly, less confusing. Instead, I don't have trouble sleeping, it's just getting myself completely into bed, otherwise I'd just wait around outside waiting for the other shoe to need restitching. An unfamiliar sound shapes the mouth, something unfamiliar but quite refreshing. All the people who hear it first repeat it, but no one is exactly the same, each person certainly acts a variety of ways in what seems true according to the early ones who felt it. Was it a disease or a way to forgive, maybe uncertainty will challenge those who find it to face forgiveness. Turn the heat up on both knobs. Target the marker and sink the submarine. Silent summer steps buried into the summer wind. Laughter's cackle resumes again.

To balance inside this world and yours isn't the easiest feat, while I cling to the insides of the jungle gym where we used to play hide and seek. Should I say, "You don't call, you don't write. It's been 3 years since I've had my muse?" All the anger strewn across my elbows makes me feel like gulliver unable to do all my traveling. I've dared. I've crossed. I've taken where signs said, "Stay Away!" But all for the chance for just a minute with you, alone in Half Moon Bay.

Sensational curiosities of quarter-sized universes of human love and human flesh.
Gentle insane thoughtless violence cured in time's long sluice of betrayal,
Rancor, then betrayal, and then the frost. Never did I hear the twigget of the synthesizer max its flare.

Every mouth was a warship, the plumes coming up over the top of the spigot, sampler of the Neverspoke. Worships them, in the Hectares through the dross, the incumbent conflagration

Envelops life from venom thru a stra.  Into the hutch the creeper shakes, like the