Grope Therapy

You are the Pasteur of my Heart;

The Bastard whose Smarts purify

My hymns, rituals, and rhythms

Love’s harsh beats whip-up in the dark.

You are the Start, the Alpha in

My bed; the bow at my End, the

Shooting Star landing on my parts—

That’s what I said; you are the One.

That’s where I went; grope therapy

Helped me transcend each stinging thrill—

’Climbed from the top down to my wealth

Of feeling so fulfilled, baby.

You are the Mark I’ll never trade;

’Something to be said of our Fate,

How it came as we did, almost

Too late; Thief-in-the-Night, please stay.

You are the Light thumbing the clouds

Into all of the shapes moulded

By the sound of what God only

Knows we can have only right now.

That’s where I went; grope therapy

Helped me transcend each stinging thrill—

’Climbed from the top down to my wealth

Of feeling so fulfilled, baby.

You are the State, the Lewdly King

Whose Fortitude has palatial

Eyes that cannot break—interludes

See’ng I get as much as I take.

You are the Half of Me which is

Great, the spark whose Voltage can make

A city run and empower

The Lowly to each be Someone.

Where do you go, when your shift’s done?

Where do you sleep, once the rain’s come?

If I make it snow, can I freeze

You in Time for us to chill some?

That’s where I went; grope therapy

Helped me transcend each stinging thrill—

’Climbed from the top down to my wealth

Of feeling so fulfilled, baby.