good intentions

i'll smile for you in winter
golden cowboy
and send you long misspelled letters
written in the sun on Stanyan Street
recalling that old couch that never gave back those pink panties
and your back pressed up against me in the bath
my tongue in the hollow of your mouth
your hips a curve in the moon
making this erection uncontrollable
like some lost satyr seeking my own malady
realizing that all bad art is the result of good intention
only the muses can save me now
when my blood spills into seaweed and I am left here chanting OMmmmmms
Lord grant me the strength to look at my body
and my heart without disgust.