Barely Morning

Lately I've been sitting on my porch in the early AM. Smoking cigarettes and sipping night-time coffee. I wonder tonight if anyone else hears God talk back from the sky. I can't help but ask myself if the moon in my universe looks anything like your's. To me, tonight, I think of it as a little star that rolled down dark blue cloudy hills, compiling with my childlike dreams and hanging low and oblong, expressing itself just radiant enough for me to understand the metaphor.

Then I look to my soul, as I close my eyes I think of hypothetical women, hypothetical love. I undress concrete boundaries with my heart's mason hands. I stare them in the eyes--their oceans, utopian maps, and fresh plateaus. I slowly lean in on their innocent smile, to kiss them on the lips. And, I can taste their nervousness. I smell their hair on my feeble shoulders, the scent of commercial shampoo, so comforting and embracing at that very moment. And the softness, the bounce on my hardened fleshy torso reminds me that I'm dreaming. And I draw a smile on my face and slowly open my eyes.