Singing love songs alone in the rain

An antique motorcycle
comes to a stop in the dark,
the antique man that rode it
crouches down in the bushes
so that the desert strays
can come to him,
like he is Christ
come to save their souls.
He isn’t there to save them though,
he feeds them so that his soul
might feel her love again,
he feeds them as she once did.
He feels her love in them,
as they rub their thin bodies up against him,
tails raised high,
so that love and longing fill him
and for a moment he feels her there,
the wife that he lost,
with him there in the desert,
together they are feeding stray cats.
I know that I cannot save souls;
I am not Christ,
and the desert strays always run from me
but I hope that when I am gone
someone misses me enough
to wander the cracked streets
of the dark desert,
finding my touch
in the affections of a starved cat.
Some birds mate for life,
for so long that the song of their lover
is what they awaken to
day in and day out,
the soft sound of their cooing
lulling the other to sleep.
And when the song of one is silenced
the other loses track of time,
the desire to eat is gone
and in time even its own song is forgotten;
it withers away
as feathers fall from flesh,
colors becoming dull
until it finally gives up,
life becomes meaningless
without the song it knew as life.
I do not know what it means
to mate for life,
but I would like to learn,
to know the song of my lover
as I know my own breath,
to know the pace of time
by the beat of another’s heart.
A couple in Ohio,
they were married almost sixty six years
and when he knew it was time
to end their suffering, he closed his eyes.
7:30 am is when he began to wait,
their children told his love he was gone,
and eleven hours later
their sixty six years
became the prologue to eternity
and now they can forever hear
the breath song of their love.
I don’t want to live forever,
but I want a love
that makes me believe that life
is only the beginning,
a taste,
a glimmer,
of what forever is.
If I can experience that,
then call me a bird,
watch my feathers fall
as I wither and die
so that I might hear her song again.
Bury us embracing,
like the Lovers of Valdaro.
They have held each other
for over 6,000 years;
their arms never letting go,
legs tightly entwined,
eyes locked as hearts are locked
in a love that lasts for eternity.
Life moves swiftly for birds
and desert cats only come out at night.
Time can pass quickly,
centuries leaving love untouched,
or it can crawl by
like counting coins in a jar.
The sound of love
wakes the lover’s soul every day,
its song setting the pace of time
and eleven hours seems like an eternity,
when an eternity is what you are waiting for.

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