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ONE NIGHT I STOPPED TO PEE IN A POPPY FIELD
IN OREGON & I HEARD A BEAUTIFUL SONG
I remembered the fun, as a kid
how I loved pissing in the fresh
snow to see the little bullets
like golden rain drops piercing
through the perfect shiny surface
of the white powder out in the cold!
It was instinctive of a boy
to mark his name on virgin snow
Sometimes there were more
of us standing with little peckers
in hands and competed until
the last boy ran out of ammunition
Tonight, what I am holding in my hand
has grown bigger, darker and hairier
with years of hiding outside the sun
(also the fondling and measuring
in the way a monk or a nun plays
with the prayer pearls with eyes closed)
Standing at the edge of a poppy field
in the center of moonlight and silence
I take my time slow, feeling each sound
in the joy of pissing in the wide open
inhaling the fragrant night & ghosts
from past rains in small heavens
If you were here, I would let you
(not unlike a firewoman holding
the hose aiming at the heart
of wild fire) control the violence
of a man, like a little girl
learning to fire a gun
. . . .
If the body really housed a soul
that was when I heard the song
in the poppy field outside of town
two bodies wrestled as one
to the melody of eternity
between a woman and her man
in the fertile land of love
where a woman and a man
can truly become one
+
z.z. 2006
[art by roi james]
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