Member-only story
Your Infinite Grace
Prose Poem
Your Infinite Grace
I’ll always give you the larger slice of pie, dear Asha, just lift your veil and let me stare at your face and delve into your eyes.
I know the price of gas is too much to stomach right now and other policies make me raise an eyebrow, but at night I return to your musical buttocks and all is well.
You couldn’t care less about keeping within societal norms, willing to entertain that assembly of faithful gents who line up outside your door.
These are people I have to push past like an agent with more willpower in one vein then they have all together in their hearts.
Hell, I’d even climb a fence or carry an impossibly heavy load just to greet you for 35 seconds.
They talk about recession, but I think that’s when your loving will be even better, your prevalence to compensate for bad times with your hot sex forever on display.
I know the world doesn’t owe me anything and for most things I have to wait patiently or pawn what I own to pay what I’m already obligated for.
You consider yourself the leader of the village and even though I consider lying with me a productive use of this lodge, my affection is so gigantic that it blocks out the black stillness with its blinding rays.
