a funny place

Isn’t this world,

a funny place...

We leap up

and tear off chunks

of the sun,

and then chase cool shadows

like children...

We paint our bodies

blue and yellow and green,

and then dive into champagne rivers

to cleanse our consciences.

We dance like whores

in dark places,

and confess our most holy acts

in conversations of red candle light.

We cry for the sanctity of solitude,

and revel in the prison of

one another’s arms.

We harvest each another’s passion,

and then flee from the intensity

in the other’s eyes.

Isn’t this world

of loving and dying,

singing and crying,

flaunting and hiding,

standing and sliding

a funny place...

14 Feb ‘97