Your rooftop and dreams are no different than mine
Birds with shapely legs dance the can-can
One retarded seagull sings its bent can’t-can’t
A dog’s hind leg is a machine just like a steam press
Your cock is a pulley and a lever which makes lust easy
On the couch, I remember my past as an empty burger wrapper
Silver, insulated, stained
I want to take enough drugs to make a boyfriend out of waistbands and book spines
He will love the parts of me that belong in the compost
God loves the parts of me that have no crayon color to match them
When I sit on the toilet, God sits on my lap
I hold him around the waist like a flotation device
We can drown in an inch of water and not say Miracle!
Soaking our feet is a hazard so is boiling the water to cook beans
Under my attic’s roof is the best place to worship gravity
We could be floating towards the sun in our best sweater
The dry cleaner would never get the burn smell out
I wait for god at the bus stop but only see four bums and a mother
When they come up to me and start eating my hair I know it is really Him
God hungers for what is long and dead
He does not choke because his throat it a set of hands
They untangle and updo
They keep unclasped just enough to breathe or let a scream through