untitled, 2006
i’ll take a glass of mystery, miss.
its deep red, the aroma and the warmth in this cold
will remedy my questions and doubt.
i’ll take that glass, miss
and only with that will i, can i, accept my
questions. and kiss
me, miss, will i think that even my doubt is good?
and soon enough, my questioning, my talking
will be because it was - there was mystery -
running, washing through me.
