The North Star burns somewhere in the haze of the city
Loose, lost and balinded in the brightness of many streets.
You stand between me and the draperies of light
Just beyond the flames you ignited.
We camp between where the surf chews and the pounding of the highway.
The skin of my breastbone is hungry.
My body craves the feel of your shoulderblades,
The contact of the small of your back with my stomach
And so I come behind you, my arms encircle you.
Your solidness on the sand has become an article of my faith:
Any space where you are, my tabernacle.