Random Rhome Roads

I saw you in distraction, wishing you were the wind but tied up until the end, whistling while you worked; for it. You might succumb to what you haven't seen and I have a keen eye for what you used to be, I mean what you still are, and I love you like I love a gravid moon in the cool harvest season, acting like a nightlight for all the outside lovers sticking it in at Inspiration Point. Last year, in the middle of the night, we took a farm-to-market to find god, or some reasonable facsimile thereof, and struck starlit luck, especially when you consider the odds of finding someone else who fucks like they mean it and who will forgive you your frailities, mine always seeming much harder to forgive than yours, to my mind. Someone who doesn't kick your crutches out from underneath you. Some godless god or godess who is willing to bet the farm on you and your long-shot wager. It's about time that I found you. Stick with me, Criminal, because there's love and babies to be made, so just stay here for another year or hundred or whatever you have left or for as long as you like. You like?