Roadside Churches

It’s the night where you’re asleep. 
Our window's open. 
I grab your arm to 
Keep the house from catching fire, 
To keep the floor from giving up,
To keep the sun from rising. 

I grab your arm and 
You sit up. You lean lazy on 
One bony elbow, you say 
“The world won’t beat it 
Out of you. I know.”

It’s summer. Days keep 
Cutting into nights. 
It’s the morning where 
We get through coffee. 
It’s morning and 
The field is golden. 
I see your head sink 
Into the tall grass. 
You spill yourself 
Into dirt right
Next to me.

My ear’s on your chest,
But the field lets in 
A steady beating. The pulse hanging
In the air; distant, 
Aimless bullets keep finding 
Skin holding together a secret. 
The grass hiding
Your hand on 
A long walk through my hair. 

It’s noon. I’m collapsed on 
The couch, reading, amidst 
Nasty stains and cigarette burns. 
There’s a nagging banging at the door. 
There’s a man outside that 
Wants to cut us open. He says 
We’re raising an army 
To invade Mongolia. 

You wish we could 
Let him in and treat him to lunch.
You say the banging has too much
Taste. He must be 
Out there with a nun. 
I throw the book, It hits 
Your face. You frown and turn  
To look at the bird on the balcony.

It’s the evening. I’m looking for
The gas tank of my car. I’m in 
A rush to get to nowhere, 
You’re more sure of yourself, less frantic. 

You’re in the store, 
Looking for a bar of soap. 
You’re in the mood for a shower. 
The cashier stares at you
Like he’s too stupid to 
Keep himself from tearing 
You apart. Really, 
He wants all the shiny things 
You keep secret. He doesn’t know 
That dies with you, unless 
Someone does something, unless 
You’ve revealed enough. 

It’s the night where you don’t sleep. 
They let us tag along at the beach. 
You lay there reading grand literature, 
Same as them, almost, 
Except you’re bleeding from somewhere.
You act like the pages are impossibly
Sharp. They can tell. You
Lack some shame.

We’re alone. I’m rowing us to
The center of the ocean.
The moon’s full, 
It’s coming down  
On the surface of the
Waves. It’s coming down 
On you. You smile with 
Yellowing teeth, 
Ragged, floating hair, eyes 
Trying to swallow the whole world 
Without missing anything sacred. 

We’re alone, I kiss you, I kiss your 
Neck, I want to take this as far 
As it goes. I look down and
See white knuckles 
That don’t care enough about
The railing. You lean
Over to look into 
The surface of the waves. 

The moon’s there, it shows people 
Dancing in a white fire. 
They kill and collapse 
Into one. They love and collapse 
Into one. They collapse 
Into millions. They all run 
Away to collapse back together. 

You lean over and I pull your hand. 
You lean and 
I’m on the wrong side. 
Your hand on a long walk. You tell me 
“There’s nuns scattered everywhere and everyone’s on fire.”

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