with him...i talked of sickles
with you...i want the pitchfork
airate me...like that clay colored soil under those green trees that remind me of your underbrush eyes
eyes that i desperately need on me
kiss me under those stars...stars like the million promises we were both promised
i'll keep them for you...in the sky, as i reminder of what i can hold onto for you
you are a man.
and i am a sorry excuse for a keeper of your stars...
let me keep them anyway
stride with me
and we shall toast triumphantly, the fruit of our labor
and i'll just bet...it will taste sweeter
under promised stars