Perhaps, tucked away
In the billowing folds
Of black space
Between our Earth
And another, where beasts
Squawk and shake
The crystal dew from their feathery manes,
You love me.
Snake men fly
As the sun sinks
In the east,
And you and I
Walk hand in hand.
Beneath the moonless night,
When crickets purr
And starry-eyed owls slumber,
I learn the honeyed taste
Of your lips.
Maybe you love me
In some lumpy soup slurry
Where dream and reality mingle.
Maybe.
He Who Wanders 