rain like the crispy skin of pork
roasted over coals and the Philippines
while the living god pokes you
in the ribs... and the afternoon wanders off.
your soy vinegar is sweeter now
but you can't recall the moon's grief.
so amazing are the the nouns for " now "
but you can't have the Past virtues
of wonderment.
only the cost of a Joy
that your black slender smiles...
and the huge room
you moon from
nothing else but
the Truth

and a Lie.