Wipe Away The World

Wipe away the world, this rain, I pray you do.

The velvet wings are so many, the kisses so few.

I dream of her and her firm, round, proud rear.

I may be in Nova Scotia come this time next year.

I could almost place her face, the angel she stole it from.

She gave me a hug, a kiss on the cheek; it struck me dumb.

In my dreams I man a lighthouse, and keep the crow fed.

She is slitting Satan’s throat as I lay half-awake in my bed.

I want to touch her face, lay kisses on her tears, make them bombs.

I live alone on the rocky island, and write novels read by soccer moms.

Her strong thighs I want as earmuffs, keeping out sound, letting me adore life.

I saw once an angel out of the corner of my eye, and he offered tea to his wife.

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