Mon Dieu

------7-11 is the center of our universe
refrigerators CAN be opened from the inside
and the light does go off
chickens watching televisions produce more eggs
turkeys looking up at the rain drown---
these obsure irrelevences sparking infused laughter

i think of the way you were last night
sober as an Amish elder and me
drunk like nobody's business
out of practice and spilling words from my slurred mouth
the lines of my sentences like muddy water
or footrpints in the sand eroded by the waves of your ocean eyes.
we are so silly, i say, for expecting less.
(3 parts body moon and 1 part heat)
the opposite of love is indecision and
my arms are full of tentative maybes.
i will not pin you down but i cannot hold you up
with my shallow weakness.
this river of bewilderment flows through me like unfamiliar blood;
my imprecision made obvious by the alcohol.

your car will still be warm 
the hood ringed with Slurpee sweat
and i know the opulence of your tongue
as well as the discomfort of the backseat of your car
covered in devil dog wrappers and abandoned soda cans
and now stained
with my scent-my foot pressed agains the back window
my nails carving the upholestry and your skin
while i bit the inside of my mouth to withhold the moment.

i wish i did not have 
the inexplicable need to immortalize
every moment in words,
to wash them in black ink and lined paper.
my words are selfish gifts to myself
while the world happens to look on.
they are details of instance,
the patience of slow to sour wine,
and you, mon cherie, you, mon dieu, are the presence of my passion.