Israel Airlines

Not Soho, somewhere else in New York.
That’s the name you claim like a wedding ring.
I love you, I don’t know where that comes from.
But I do, want to know your story, if not your world.
Want to know your dreams, if not follow your path.
 A place of fire made to honor you, though it’s a death trip.
I make plays of things we’d do in Israel, and Petra.
Plays of some foolish notion, that it could work at all.
I’ll got Petra alone, and hopefully  drown this dream
in the Jordan River, and promise myself to a mermaid of the Dead Sea.
 I cast god and all that away, like a snake shedding a useless skin.
You heart is gold attended by angels, and their pampered smoke.
I want you, but it would be another lie, another mask, same old shit.
So the plane leaves for Israel, and the dead are left to bury their own.
I drown this hope and wish, a baptism that will wash foolishness clean.

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