Saturday, April 02, 2011

Dear One

I can rustle cattle. I can sling hash. I can
pull a sack of deuce. I can blow smoke and disappear.
There is a weight to my hands as they wave in the air
letting their skin tone glint as I say goodbye.

What gives rain its potency is its water. It is a fact
that the city sizzles under those ecstatic blue drops.

I'll love you by letting you know
how my vast strut does wonders in this world
of positions. I'll deliver a bright glaze
that you can see or not. I'm in on it.
When a razor slices through the water
the wound it leaves is invisible, so this is too.
I'll let you know when it's okay to lean on me
until you literally fold over me.

Get yourself right with all your worries.
Touch your face with my hands.
You can pay the wolf in crackers.
You can hang your hat in jest.
I'm right here, let's get started.


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