Saturday morning, syrup and pancakes

saturday, august 21

pittsburgh, pa

drove 5 hours from cleveland yesterday to teach in pittsburgh

staying at some kind soul's house i never met yet, smells like cats

doesn't make much difference to me anymore, where i lay my head

saturday morning

woke up remembering how you move inside me like syrup and pancakes with melting butter

you standing in the doorway naked with a cup of coffee

rubbing your belly

which is not rock hard like the infomercials

but soft with honey bear fuzz, and thick around the waist like a real man

and how we used to make love in the mornings

before breakfast,

after breakfast

we used to say we had to charge the worlds battery by creating friction with our magnetic parts

well, i guess the world is still runnin'

anyways

because these days

i don't see so much of you anymore

and sometimes i just want to wrap my legs around you

to feel the assurance of your arms

the sweat of our bellies as you slide inside

and we make a solemn prayer

sometimes looking into each others eyes and sometimes looking far away

to the stars

and sometimes it seems like it should be as easy as making a phone call

or buying a plane ticket

but somehow, it's not that easy at all

the same magnetic force that used to pull you into me

(deeply)

now seems to be pushing us apart

and i mine my misery for art

to tell my story

of sin and redemption

of love and loss

like a good country song, except in my version,

everything you lose will come back again