and the same
wild blood, well,
it thrums in our veins
a bard and a siren,
a poet and his muse,
your hand in mine,
and my hand in yours
take me out past
these paved highways
to those grassy fields
where the wild horses run
we’ll sit on the hood
of your parked car,
splitting a six pack
and sweet summer peaches
and i’ll fall in
love with you
all over again
because i don’t have
to beg for mercy,
or confess my sins,
or cage this wild thing
that lives in my chest
your hands are tender enough,
your words soft and kind,
to soothe that black boneyard dog
that paces over and over
what i’ve had to bury
and there in the sun,
i know you won’t ask
me to dig any of it up
so i’ll knock that
old dirt off my well-worn boots,
and with the sun at my back,
and you by my side,
i’ll plant flowers there instead