Sadie Lune Castro Theater, San Francisco 2007

Dreamy

I dream of you
Each day
When I’m awake
At night
When sleeping
When I’m sitting
Or lying
And when I touch myself
I think of you
When I eat
And when I bathe
All the time
I wonder what you’re doing.
I remember your smell
And your skin
The way you smile
And your touch that drives me
To want you
I miss it
That thing you have
Inside you that makes
Me want
To do things that we can never talk about
To others
who would not understand
They would cower at
Our power
And what we
Do together
Would make them
Run screaming
To have us
Removed
Because
We love
In
Different
Ways.
My dreams
Of you
Are
Sacred

Just a cup of tea

The tea sits hot, sweet, fragrant next to the bed on the edge of the old oak secretary. I can smell the leafish scent enticing, full of waking promise. My hand reaches to the cup and pain strikes thru my gut in severe warning of physical limit. Just out of reach I try to roll or edge close and unable to get past the knife in my side begin to cry from my need to be able to move in a simple get the cuppa way that nearly everyone can do. I grab the headboard using my arms to drag my torso toward the cup and stop defeated by the aching hot hole cut in me. I lie still waiting again for pain to please go away now and in a few minutes it fades. Again and again I try for the cup, persistent and hopeful despite my limit I drip frustration from my eyes and become triumphant. Balancing my screaming belly I bring the now cold cup of tea to my lips and drink the whole thing in one long cool satisfying gulp.

Cuddle

I like it when you cradle my head against your breast
while you stroke the back of my neck and murmer soft endearments.
And when you kiss my neck I am just lost to everything
I hold my breath sometimes when your palms slide down my back
Amazed that so much wonder can come from your guiding fingers
Your breath holds me quiet as my heart wants to leave my chest fluttering into oblivion throbbing spurts of crimson flesh.
My skin somehow merges connecting to yours in a deep slip slide of feel and merged wish.
I want you to touch me, touch me slow and complete in lovers gasping grasp to take me with a fingertip to some place I don’t know but yet have always yearned for, a healing completeness of beyond. Heaven is described by your bucking hips and hell is waiting for us to happen again. I wait for your eyes to meet mine with that look you get – all inside smiles and outside calm need and assurance.
I like it when you hug me to you and tell me things, things that are not known to anyone but us, things that are ours and belong to no others, things that matter, really matter in the universe. Things like who we are to each other and what we have done or might yet do in our dreams of real together. Things that make us close together while I rest my heart on your ever-soft breast.

Mr. Tree (3 chords only)

My back yard has a tree,
They say it’s older than the hills.
My back yard it has this tree,
That say it can cure all your ills.

I sit under it to drink whiskey,
And use all the favorite pills.

My tree it has some branches
They’re full of everybody’s ills.

The twigs are thick and heavy
They need the strength to hold.
My tree it has some branches
the leaves are so very cold.

I feed my tree pure whiskey
It sits and drinks with me.
I said I feed this tree pure whiskey
And I cry here on my knees.

The branches are so twisted
From weight of all the rain.
I’ve sat here ten years now
And I’m tired of the pain.

This tree it has just one root
That’s where this all just started.
I put her in the ground right there
since then I’m broken hearted.

I’d give up everything sir
everything I’ve ever owned.
I wish I had a house for her
and maybe a front yard too.

Mr Tree I’m waiting for her
I’m waiting for her to come back.
Mr Tree I’m waiting for her.
Oh please, please, give her back.

Pearls for Molly

Your eyes take my lungs to stillness with knowledge you keep behind them. Artful assessing open merry wondering eyes have me dancing and hoping that when I close mine and we are close then maybe, just maybe we will touch and when we do and you will hold yours too. I listen for the slight catch in your breath, the moment when the world puts us together in piles of jewels and drag alone in a strangers apartment in the dark playing dress-up to find where everything might fit. Draped in pearls my heart wandered simply because you said I was sexy in my rumpled flesh and smooth lace edged satin and beads. Playing at the soul of being grownups we know that grownups never do this and then gasp for air in unsealed moments of willing lips opened and want-on each other knowing that this moment stolen will never be returned. Glistening smooth round staff strung ungendered drops displayed still and sliding. Mounted mindless, snapped on satin coved boxes of forever I shall keep me dressed and still for your finger’s silver buttoned stroke while looking at me through jeweled lens of joy and caring with endless open wondering eyes.

Dusty Memory

I sifted your heart into piles of dry ashes
remembered lips and touches beyond.
Dust filled empty ribbed arches
Ached edges grit kissed limit.
Hell found in missing you I stand quietly
parched dust bathing loves lost ember.

Bleak grey overhead light
Tepid hands lined and dusty creases
Falling to gravities cosmic pull.
Rain soaked ancestors muddy reply.
I sifted your heart into piles of dry ashes
Tossed in the storm of my love.

Violet & Tina 2007

Parkway Theater Burlesque