I see my face in foamy pee

smiling back at me before I flush.

The bubble of the elusive moment

allows me to see with fresh eyes.

I sip my coffee slowly, lost in the scent

of savoring the miracle of every drop.

Taxicabs with smiling faces stop,

and wait for me to cross the street.

The clang and screech of cable cars

sound like a herd of wounded elephants.

A spatter of bird shit glows

like a Seurat Pointillist painting.

Two mocking birds bring tears to my eyes

singing the opening duet to La Boheme.

My elongated arms reach around you

for a Boa constrictor squeeze.

Time slows down as we bathe

in the ambrosia of unquenchable love.

We touch skin-to-skin, bone-to-bone,

covering ourselves in a blanket of Forget-me-nots.

I can run, but there’s no place to hide

from the stale smell of the man in the dark.

My head spins and wobbles as I begin to live

in the naked existence of being already dead.