all that glitters is usually filtered
unless God is involved.

this day, two weeks
ago, or so,
i’m lost driving into the
sun-soaked skyline;
her late afternoon sunset like an
ochreous fog drifting from underneath
God’s skirt as she lifts
(I’m trying not to stare)
and shows me
what I could have had;
a heart exploding from arterial
confinement, daily hues of red cascading
into orange clouds,
or if it’s rain that day,
gray with yellow halos.
the setting is always obscured by
the passing climate.

I was hearing you say
“fuck”
softly and playfully near my ear
again. I know where you
stay now, and I know
I just want everything
too fast.
the sky is telling a story
of a very
slow and deliberate
inflorescence
fuck
and I am trying
to be more present.

but I just missed my exit
trying not to feel
the one am fingers
unzipping the jeans I fell
asleep in
and I probably
missed the point
long ago, but I am dreaming of
a reunion,
of delayed gratification,
a ball dropping,
a heart exploding in
your bed like a sunset;
perennial, without
finality or resistance
to its daily revolution
around the giant.

the way I am longing to
be in your ear whispering,
revolving around the giant in the
room between us;
yes,
keep going.

2.

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