My cigarette is speaking in tongues,
and I’ve met so many atheists
who love to talk about God.
where is who and who is now,
I think I see the horizon peaking
from beneath your elegant dress.
no snow flakes in the summer,
I wish I could be back on those streets
laughing with old childhood friends.
I can’t help but look at you
and fall in love all over again with the
way you tap your foot to the beat of the air.
No armies rally under my command,
but I can still venture forth through the maze
of man-made guilt.
The mail has come knocking,
and I weep openly for all those letters