Under oath (for a while)


Following the tracks of small animals 
by the light of a flashlight (a caterpillar, 
a dove, a snake) and getting drunk together

on mixed messages, wine and smoke,
and everything that casually goes
from mouth to ear on summer evening breath

fold your hands into a bowl
and sigh; that scent will always be
lost

now that you're in love
with the way her knees bend

because she insists on pissing in the grass
where the crickets and grasshoppers fuck
in the moisture that rages between her legs

burned on retina: ass on calves in white socks

or else this: warmth in the dark, salty
and willing

look mom, no hands!

you are kneeling with the leftovers of a song
about love still in her mouth

and when she points out which candles 
to blow out on the heaven cake
because this sleep will be black and deep

but light enough not to get lost
if you hold her tightly, then
you will, yes you will...

we've all been there, we all want to go back,
store strange bodies voluntarily 
in tents under oath (for a while)

you know, she knows, we know, we've been
there

so it will be a lifelong  
swaying between guilt and innocence,
between this and dreamed time,
looking for a common
emotion on each field, two 
children on your left side, you third
wife on your right

excuse me sir but do you happen to know 
where the toilets are

finding those

while behind you the grass is already
rising again