Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

confessing to the vicar of god

what a task
you’ve burdened me with

having to dance like i’m enjoying it
as you watch
masked through the glass

pretending i’m unaware you’re there

wigs, trench coats, switching booths every night
none of it’s working, baby

you’re nothing
if not a predictable animal

it’s your scent
and references
that betray you

i could spy with my little eye
and point you out from the blimp
hovering over a pirates game

i won’t look up

because in my dreams
i’m curled around you in the back seat
of a taxi cab
weeping for all we lost in the war
confessing to the vicar of god
it’s the sound of your voice
i’ve missed the most

i won’t smile at you

smiling is for pussies

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