Lying together in the park on Seventh,our backs smoosh grass and I sayI will love you till I become a child again,when feeding me and bathing me is no longer romantic,but rather necessary.I will love you till there is no till.Till I die.And when that electroencephalogram shuts down, babythat’s when the real lovin’ kicks in.Forgive me for sounding selfishbut I won’t be able to wait under the earth for you(albeit a romantic thought for groundhogs,gophers and the gooey worms).I will not be able to wait for you…but I will meet up with youand here’s where you will find me:get a pen—Hold your finger up(two fingers if your hands are frail by now)and count two stars directly to the leftof the North American moon.You will find me there.You will find me darting behind amazing quasarsBehind flirtatious winksof bright and blasting boom stars!Sometimes charging so far into spacethe darkness goes blue.I will be there chasing sound wavesriding them like two-dollar pony ride horsesthat have finally broken free and wild.I will be facing backwards, lying sideways,no hands, sidesaddle, sometimes standingsometimes screaming zip zang zowie!My God, it’s good to be back in space… Where is everybody?You will recognize my voice.You will see the flash of a fire trailburning off the back of meburning like a gasoline comet kerosene sapphire.This is my voice.Don’t look for my body or a ghost.I’ll resemble more a pilot light than a man now.I’m sure some will seethis cobalt star white light from earthand cast me a wish like a wonder bomb.And I’ll think “Hmmph. people still do that?”I’m sure I’ll take the light wonder bombsto the point in the universewhere sound does end.The back porch of God’s summer home.It’s so quiet here, you float.It feels the way cotton candy tastes.I say to him… why do I call you God?He says ‘Because Grand Poobah sounds ridiculous.’(Who knew he was so witty?)I ask him ‘Lord, so many poets have tried to nail it and missed, what is holy?’At that moment,the planets begin to spin and awakenand large movie screens appear on Mars, Saturn and Venuseach bearing images I have witnessedand over each and every clip flashes the word holy.armadillos—holymagic tricks—holycows’ tongues—holysnowballs upside the head—holyclumsy first kisses—holysneaking into movies—holyyour mother teaching you to slow dancethe fear returningthe fear overcome—holyeating top ramen on upside-down frisbeescause it was either plates or more beer—holydrunk beach cruiser nights—holythe $5.00 you made in vegasand the $450.00 you lost—holythe last time you were nervous holding hands—holyfeeling God at a pool hall but not church—holysleeping during your uncle’s memorized dinner prayer—holylosing your watch in the waves and all that signifies—holythe day you got to really speak to your father cause the television broke—holythe day your grandmother told you something meaningfulcause she was dying—holythe medicinethe hopethe bloodthe fearthe trustthe crushthe workthe lossthe lovethe testthe birththe endthe finalethe designin the starsis the samein our heartsthe designin the starsis the samein our heartsin the rebuilt machinery of our heartsSo love, you should know what to look forand exactly where to go…Take your time and don’t worry about getting lost.You’ll find me.Up there, a finger and two dots away.If you’re wondering if I’ll still be able to hold you…I honestly don’t knowBut I do know that I could still fall fora swish of light that comes barrelingand cascading towards me.It will resemble your sweet definite hands.The universe will bend.The planets will bow.And I will say “Oh, there you are. I been waitin’ for ya. Now we can go.”And the two pilot lights go zoooooooominto the black construction paper nightas somewhere elsetwo other lovers lie down on their backs and say“What the hell was that?”
Keep up the gorgeous, followers!
Guess what, beautiful!