3-11-12
Rubbed One Out in Wichita
Driving/Methodist Coffee Shop
 
I breathed these bones upon your back,
muscles waving the hills of Kansas,
rain gray on the bluffs press breast on breast,
gold grass red hips breathe the windsplash on bus windows.

I rubbed one out in Wichita,
a church service singing in my head,
testimony crawling upon the floor under the bathroom door.

Their voices gasped the songs of your past,
pressing through the dream trace of my fingers on your skin,
a healing cough singing the space between our air.