where the writers are
I could tell you

 

I could tell you

 

About the chair always vacant next to mine:

 

And oh yes the other side of the bed so fresh and cold

 

For preservation and pickling

 

And then let’s speak of the midnight hour when the dogs stir

 

And the furnace is down

 

Or the lights go off

 

And only I know where the circuit breaker is

 

And the tire goes flat on the side of 101

 

It’s late at night and I am one tough girl

 

But what I really want you to know

 

Is how it feels to be empty and then full

 

Cold and then warm

 

Hard and then soft

 

Like the sweet dew on the grass

 

Or the taste of your open  mouth

 

Or the sight of your belly which makes me weeps.

 

I could lie all day with you and watch the shadows tell time on the pale blue wall

 

Even If I put my finger down on the floor the world won’t stop.

 

You are the treasure I stopped searching for a long time ago.