the flesh saves

born owning nothing  
more then the skin
covering my bones
 
time rented,
barely a soul
to spare
 
after sixty plus  
years, still stealing
kisses from the
stars and choking  
on dirty words from  
strangers in dark
bar room corners  
 
haunted by the  
holy ghost,
 
hunted by the
arrow of
time
 
hurried by the
fury of
life
 
ragtag, raging and  
marching against  
the tide of  
sanity and  
reason
 
those too few nights
of miraculous,
precious  
passion
 
riding the waves of
another persons  
body
 
owning nothing
but the skin
that covers  
these old
bones
 
but that is enough
to hold a dream,
to let go of
fear
 
and to find
life