Italics Mine

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I stand by my back-then words

The sight and the touch of a fiery hand

Brushed against the surface of my straight-from-only-God-knows-where intuition 

Reaching out, did you foresee -as you seem to be able- my fumblings and follies

I choke when I taste and gasp when I smell your handiwork against my handiwork

With incredulous eyes, stunned heart and still-shallow breath, again I say 

“Oh my God…oh my god….”

Route 66

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Confused by contrasts 
The world may tilt its head
And wonder whether 
Our will is pure
Or has lost its way

He’s not taken aback
And cannot manufacture concern
If in one breath 
Lungs profess His glory
Then in the next
They exhale and entertain
With dialated pupils
Deeper sighs
Sharper canines
Deltoids more deeply defined
Electric blush polka dots

And if with wanderlust
Our heartstrings conspire
To wrangle and lasso
The Auroras
The source of saffron
The Silk Road
The Amazon
Route 66
And all things in between
He won’t show surprise
He knitted that there