She found the love of her life.
They move into their love home
and build their nest and begin
to compromise and give up a piece
here and there and lose bits of them
until they look in a mirror and see
strangers and wonder where they
went. She's gone.

A mob lives in my head some nights
screaming like my angry lovers sounding
like sirens echoing down alley ways
going to emergency or going to jail
when I try to sleep at night.

   They shout angry slogans and
   scream ******* all night long.
   Sirens sound like bitter wives
   whining loud as white noise now,
   and some lives matter sometimes.
   Some never mattered in the womb.

I see him in my dreams.
He's not an old god on a throne.
He's an eye in my mind's eye.
I see him as he sees me and
His creation vast and alone
wanting to understand what's
behind the great curtain of OZ.
He died and we're his dreams.

Plant your flag in your soil of choice.
I don't love or hate you for politics.
I like you if you like me. I'll laugh
at your jokes and love your poems.

Raise your cups in a toast
to all the ones we love.
Here's to our mistakes
and those we made right.
We're human after all.
Here's to you and me.
Early love is easy. Toast
to those who suffered love
and carried on through years
and sleep snoring together.

I have no time to listen
to your supposition
of the conversation
of your observation
when you found her ****
swimming in an attitude
she thought it amusing
and started refusing
to name her admirer
who set her on fire.

The streets are alive with barkers
  and for rent by the hour lovers for
  any taste. Cross dressers and trannys
  confuse your drunken *** with desire.
  You ignore your family and catechism
  kneel in her church and eat the host.