There is a way that love works in my heart
That can’t be counted on wristwatches held by dead old white men
Burying each other with fleeting gestures of hello and goodbye.

There is a way love works in my heart that is more honest than a
Rainbow after the soft way teardrops fall from God on so imperfect a
Creation of clay and stone that one could only call it perfect for its
Oddities of dying men, futile in their searches to live forever.

There is a way that a woman leaves a room that spoils me more than
The dead ever could. It’s being so alone in a whitewashed room, staring
At a corner, wondering who will love the sinner with his dunce cap and
*****, torn shoes?

There is a way that I look at a woman and feel the tears of God manifest
In my heart. It is sexless and noiseless, but holds a mirror to my face and says
This is who you love more than you. Not the vanity of rivers, but the tear that
Comes when no one is watching me watch her. I will now fall into her and drown,
My final performing act.

There is a way a bird sings so carefully in the rhythm of time, that doesn’t give a lick
About me or how beautiful I think he sings.  He sings simply because
There is a voice inside him and a swelling to sing, as nature warrants. I, too, sing,
But for others to hear. How shameful am I?
Maybe he sings for a lover? I don’t know.
Maybe we both sing for a lover to hear?
Lyrics were the inventions of lovers who
Realized words were not enough.

There is a way she walks down a flight of stairs that make
Her calf muscles tighten and loosen like all the days have done.
Her yellow dress falls around her upper thighs
And I wonder how many other strange, lonely souls see
Her this way and dream of salvation in the fat pink lip I would
Bite a little if she challenged me with her eyes and we
Kissed.  

There is a way I close my eyes at night and wonder if I will
Awake one more time. Or will I be eaten by the blackness of space,
Forever one lone astronaut going nowhere and everywhere, but no longer
Confined to time. How will I get back to her and kiss her and tell her
I love you?

So much depends on manners, and when one dies, and manners
Don’t matter, so much depends on death.
How will I get back to you after death?