I feel you stroking
with planets you call hands,
Such frozen comfort
your Bibles and Korans.
Just like a crime scene
your mysteries only grow,
Lee Harvey Oswald,
I am your grassy knoll.
But I’m going to love you anyway—
on the back of my neck, a breathy stranger, every day.
I’m going to love you anyway—
because I know you’re in so close, you’re far away.
This boot of flesh,
it’s too narrow for my toes.
This brain’s too baggy
with all the things it knows.
Oh wet religion,
religion in each eye,
I love your churches
but your sermons, they’re so dry.
But I’m going to love you anyway—
on the back of my neck, a breathy stranger, every day.
I’m going to love you anyway—
because I know you’re in so close, you’re far away.
You wave your chainsaw
of silence through each thought,
big corporation,
You clear-cut every lot.
Big limbs are falling,
quick grab a hard hat.
Oh plastic dharma,
you’re already cracked.
But I’m going to love you anyway—
on the back of my neck, a breathy stranger, every day.
I’m going to love you anyway—
because I know you’re in so close, you’re far away.
Just like a miner,
black faced and underground,
this mind keeps digging
not liking what is found.
They say up top
there’s a blinding fist of light
that’ll deck your dreams
before they get a chance to fight.
But I’m going to love you anyway—
on the back of my neck, a breathy stranger, every day.
I’m going to love you anyway—
because I know you’re in so close, you’re far away.
