Bam. Bam. Snap.
Sizzle. Pop. Thrust.
I didn't do it.
Well...
not to go Chicago on all your asses,
but,
the wham bam, thank you,
hey girl,
doesn't work,
if you can't skillet-fry,
the omellete morning after
seduction, construction,
even if you can perform,
the over-the-bed-post,
formation, function,
you've gotta have
the hand held,
breaths between the counting,
cello conversation, with the hands,
holding, you've gotta have,
what HE offers,
at least that's what the brochure says,
read here:
simple gifts,
yellow mums in a vase,
texts that chase,
notes from a snowfall in June,
chain-link rainwater pulls, wanting,
to live forever, forever,
and the hands,
that give simple gifts
without asking,
with the cello, always humming,
always holding, always moving,
constant songs, into the hours,
counting the breaths,
as simple gifts, in his hands,
hmmmm.
so.
yep. Bam. Sigh. Snap.
I've put my viola in a case,
sewed buttons on my jeans,
found my o-voice, so I can sing,
they say, HE says,
you can be carefully taught,
but I don't know,
the hills are alive and all that jazz,
but HIS eye in on the sparrow,
Sizzle. Pop.
Bam. Bam. Sigh.
and lord knows,
this bird can sing.
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