Gay Street, to the movie theatre, to see a tear jerker romance.
I hate the comic book shirt I wear, vestigial tail of another life.
Death comes, but it doesn’t have to come from a fist or his gun.
It can come because our bodies betray us, break down, fall away.
The street is loud and noisy and bright, people, neon and traffic.
I want the life of love even when it ends it loss and death; it’s still light.
All these people on a Friday night, I think some of them are in love.
If I can just dream of warmth and innocence, I’ll be okay all alone here.
A beer, no popcorn or snack, just love for an actress that has a bright soul.
I’m not holy, or I am only in fits and starts, and I want to be a child of her light.
Love story, full of sorrow, but with whom a lover wipes away all those tears.
I made a place in my heart to receive her light, not let’s see if I can keep it lit.