Our kisses are the descendants
of our affection, Cousin to our grief.
and the midday sun through a thicket.
Our embrace like braille for a ******.
he may not be blind, but he cannot see
any reason
to not please you.
Love is the first fire we ever knew.
we chased our comets and slept in thistle clouds -
barking at the afternoon.
we sleep in a van, parked in the palm
of an Unknown God.
and joy is the kingdom
of tickets.