I was never much of a dancer, don’t
get me wrong, I’d cut a rug anytime, anywhere, if the music
played itself, bounced from ceiling to floor, and tonight
because of you my feet moved.

Maybe it is the same, maybe pain
is love in retrograde, (yeah
I like that) those tight jeans, red hair, soft pale breasts and hands
that hold a greasy heart will send the stars spinning
foward. It’s been a long hard road;
this is the poem where I finally give thanks,
this is seven years justified,
this is the begining of what will only be
described as incrediable, without regret
we missed anything, and being
there in each moment, even
beholding that dark side of the moon
that doesn’t want me back.
.                                                       Now ready and happy to rise,
to bathe in the Cancer Moon, bathe in a light freely given
by the sun to each animal who seeks freedom
without being told what to do. Let’s ride the downbeat
off in the distance, wild running toward the horizon
outside Ocampo, Mexico, where Texas is a dream.

I love the image of a car riding across the desert, validated
by the veracisty of passing from nowhere to futher
and you know where your going (don’t think about it
that much, that much is what I ran from, to my fantasy
of a city called refuge, one built on cocaine and alcohol, sex, urine, and the stains
that where burned like so many sheets that reaveled what only a blank page can).

It’s like that old song, two worlds colliding, but whether we stand or sit
or lie down and fuck good for an hour before
reality sets in and you hit the road or just get lost and find sunshine
just around every bend; Could anything be more holy or pure,
finally becoming the man and woman we have always hidden from?

I love your vagina, truly the mound of Venus, it mytifys me,
telling me the story that brings your heart
to the surface as it finds a new way to survive. (This was so much easier
when I had a typewriter, those primative days of my youth.)
I love ‘bring on the night’, now, because it rushes to the dawn.

So I’m sitting here at my wooden desk writing you some lines
instead of doing them (I hope we can still be friends). I write it
because you made the stars align and I am proud
that you would choose me, a planet on the far side, vast, wanting
to come back and never more abel.
.                                                                         Let’s sail this world and make a poem home
for the fleeting seconds when we can be each other, ego dead
and there to catch each other, especially because we made each other fall
(gravity is a bitch) into the rest of our lives.

I write this not to propogate some lust
for life or thirst for some imagined need. (We need food, we want
each other.) I write this to assign meaning and place
myself in time, I want to touch
the earth, drink in the mighty river
down in a valley that is calling us between
the vast sands we trudged in another
world, now it’s not hard to be ourself
because there is nothing wrong.

I write this to welcome the sun,
I write this to tell you ‘yes it can be real’,
I write this for my girls who need their dad to be happy,
but mostly I write this because I wish you were here,
it was that cold last night.