Breathe a while here, my boy
Perhaps you have examined me thoroughly.
Or we have done neither to each other.
That sounds more likely. But complexities
religious and secular require their long lessons both.
I’ll share them with you–you have no idea
how much brain has stayed awake for our larger
insane situation. Things are not as they appear.
Listen, my love, for we both have misconceptions.
I am drunk off our spirits as we breathe kisses.
I will be with you while all the things
that compose us grow silly, whole we both grow older.
You do not worship me as I worship you. And this is good.
I am a pilgrim for your sake, my love, no matter sociology.
You save me. And I love you for your music
and your clothes and the half-hours it takes
you to get ready for the cruel day. You, my love, don’t
have a map to to my demise but it is your love
that keeps me sane these nights. When you lie awake
mostly insane all night and a boy keeps you sane,
you will know what you are to me, my cure,
I love and weep at you, Colby.
You are rare in the lifetime of a man.
And all the world would fight for you except, I hope,
how you fight for me. You are glory and medicine
and fantasy, and person all of which I keep right here
near my heart. You are here when I sleep, my dear,
for now. Never halt your face, my love. Or my cells
would likewise halt themselves, and I would gag to death.