wide as the gap from star to star:

the one you profess to be –

the one you really are.

                        *          *          *

she’s a goddess. she makes love like she owns the patent.

her whip spits at me, & ribbons the skin on my back.

then she licks her lips, & hands me the whip…

she’s pious when she’s not blaspheming. disregard the

harlot street clothes, & you’ll swear she’s God’s daughter.

she’s a temptress who will take you for one night, & you’ve

jimmied open the back door of heaven. in the morning, the

cold rain rouses you as you wake up in the gutter. the line

between love & hate is thin, but the crack was wide enough

to swallow me.

she’s a shadow who drifts away when you thought you had her

pinned under you, & you are suddenly lonely like it was a brand

new thing. so you stalk the wicked streets, & you’re back on the

corner with the pimps & hookers, you’re cold & bumming quarters

for dope or Thunderbird.  I was born on that corner.

she’s a shadow & she’s made of nothing. she’s no damn good for

anyone & I hate her because I know I’m exactly the same…

she’s a shadow who murders the night.

she’s a pillar of fire in the light.