Who lives in my eternal neighborhood?
the light in my DNA would be king;
surrounded by family, as i should
be, since they store the love He would bring,
my long term friend and confidante.
mending fences, then, with my family,
finding me, elsewhere, in my former haunt,
in great communion with his body.
what would motivate the law of love
if not this difference? His trauma is real,
he is the man i’ve been dreaming of,
and my job, now, is to help him heal.
i live, like him, with a fixed radius;
at times we overlap each other,
living with women that make us famous.
Thinking that it would be no bother,
and it isn’t, since we are at peace,
I show him subtle differences in pitch,
the kind that lead to sexual release.
i can’t help it if i get the itch,
from time to time, to make combinations
that would unlock the secrets of his heart,
absolving former trepidations,
returning me, happily, to the start
of my earthly life, in his confidence.
my sweetheart shares in our relationship,
magnifying our correspondence,
making our hearts beat at a faster clip
until exhaustion gives way to His bliss.
Likewise, amongst family, the pitch is clear:
there is nothing amongst us that we miss:
He, already, has nothing to fear.
We dine, often enough, with each other—
tuning with our corner of the universe.
We return, eventually, to our lover,
adding our money to His holy purse.