A small salvation

  
 
   
   
prayers made of  
dirt coming    
true  
   
drinking juice w/some  
gone guy spitting    
words at the  
stars  
   
night stumbles home  
drunk followed by  
mystery    
   
rain falling on our heads play cool  
jazz inside our skulls as we  
splash in puddles laughing    
like two awkward,  
retarded lost  
children  
   
shoes, socks soaked,  
strands of wet hair    
in eyes, lips  
orbit one  
another  
   
hands becoming anxious    
spiders crawling over  
the strange webs  
of our wet  
bodies  
   
-and after-  
   
lying in bed, holding  
the shadows of  
each others    
lives  
   
and as we
sleep   
   
the clocks turn    
away their  
faces  
   
the world  
pauses  
   
as we wait to wear the    
flesh of a new    
morning