Let me now describe my love for you:

falls through the kitchen window
and lands on the red and white asbestos floor
where we walk back and forth

day by day, making food
and dancing to songs remembered
half-sung, wrong-sung, neck-wrung
until we laugh and our kidneys cry
for perrier or angel food cake covered in
dark chocolate.

On Monday at 11:24am, the sunlight
lands and dances there with us until
it's time to reckon the sins of angels
and the accounts of mortal men doomed to
laugh at retarded children pronouncing hard words
like bespectacled

day by day attempting something beyond them
and dancing to songs forgotten
not-sung, un-stung, far-flung
until they learn the warmth of compassion
for communion -- wafers and wine.

On Monday at 11:25am, the sunlight
is gone behind a cloud and dances unseen
by any but the stars who performed songs
we-sung, they-sung, beer-munged
until their tongue was thick and words slurred
like the soft-brained babes of addicts

day by day, lurching towards another high
dancing from john to john for hope and cash
half-stung, wrong-sung, necks rung
until they die. We laugh until we cry
feeding our needs for eachother like that covered
in dark