Pay me in sand dollars

and candy cigarettes

for loving how it feels

to take off my clothes

with grown men in the next room;

or dance in a candlelit window,

embracing my pleasures,

while they hide theirs

out on the street.

loving to life

Loftily, a dragonfly plants himself

in the ground next to me,

violently brushing my hair and


“My sweet, look at me.  I’m still here.  I’m alive.”

Illuminant wings shimmer lovelier than

autumn fields, as he

moves them over my neck,

opulent nerve-lightning and sensory flames,

reforming my broken soul,

growing my heart strings.

Ancient orbs, he moves his eyes.

I hear feathered cackles;

up over his head, the robins fly.

See, how he smiles.