In Memphis, She Headed West

Not only is sex evil, but it’s gross.

She turned her head away from him,

blocked his mouth with the flat of her palm,

watched the city pass outside the bus window.

 

He turned from her, miffed and silent.

The body and all it’s working, it’s hungers,

and it’s frailty and disgusting detritus,

was only redeemed by soft, and simple touch.

 

She wanted to hold his hand, cuddle close,

lay her head upon his shoulder, maybe fall asleep

as the bus drove on through the night to Memphis.

Even the kisses he fished for had the taste of sickness.

 

She watched the world pass by, past Nashville, into the west,

and she knew in Memphis she’d he heading out alone to Denver.

He wanted what he wanted, and would take nothing less.

The revolted flesh overwritten by the perverse pleasures.

 

Just touch me, leave all the other to rest.

Touching, the weight of another in her arms.

None of the mixing, none of the risk of new life,

and all the damnation it brought upon an innocent thing.

 

In Memphis, he left her. In Memphis, she headed west.

God only touched another when touch was all there was.

Sex, the evil of debasement and cruelty and vice.

Sex, the original sin, the most despairing, the least despised.

 

Angel might now keep her company in her dreams……..

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