River Man

I lean my head against the cool glass of the window,
and listen to the storm attempt to tear the city apart.
I spent the night dreaming of hurricanes,
with your name written upon them.

I feel the weight of the gray skies,
pushing down on my head like an invisible hand;
lightening tapping at my mind,
and saying your name over and over again.
I am drowning in the weight of my own convictions,
as the rivers and oceans rise to meet the land in a torrential kiss.

And for your wet kiss, River Man;
I would drop flowers of orange and gold into thick waters,
to watch them drown.
I would dive my hands into relenting dark muds,
and come up dirty for your taste.
I would turn my face up to an angry sky,
let the driving rain pelt my skin until it was a chilly pink.
I would drown in increments,
just to force my eyes open under water,
and glimpse your filmy half-light face.
Just to let your kiss,
so wet,
fill my lungs.

There are messages I have filled bottles with,
tossed them from the bridge.
Your name on each scrap of paper,
floating from my shore to your shore.
River Man, you are all shores.

A slow *slip-slop-drip* dripping on the floor.
A kiss like fighting;
fighting for air, for breath, for meaning, for reason.
River Man, you are dripping on my floor.
A shiny voice chittering in the back of my head,
"Should I ever trust such a rushing voice?
Should I ever trust wet blue eyes?"
And your eyes are the bluest.
A thousand years of erosion,
worn down to the bluest depths.
So clear,
River Man,
I can see through to the ocean,
just behind your furrowed brow.

I can see purple star fish against your illuminate skin,
wet algae on your tongue.
You taste of pure salt and clean water,
I can feel you breaking out of your banks,
ripping down the dams that keep you from me.
The rain is singing to me.
Singing in sweet dulcimer tones,
all blue and green.
Tipping and tapping against the window;
Little rivers running down the walk.
Little wet fingers running down the glass.
The rain holds your name for me,
and whispers your secrets,
into each damp night.

O River Man,
I have nestled into these little worn pebbles,
in vibrant colours under cool clear water.
I am cradled by your cold hands,
in this deep pool of green and golds,
as little fish swim against my thighs.
River Man,
I have met the fishing snake,
and he winks his eyes at me,
from the whistling bull rushes,
and sings his little hypnotic song.
The bright green frogs are crooning,
and the skipper beetle knows my name.

River Man,
take my body and flow.
We are now only drips and drops,
we are in the mouths of fish.
We are singing a babble of bluest eyes,
and loving over water falls.
We are a hurricane,
we are calm water.
We are a sailor's delight.
We are forever lovers gone to sea,
and our names are on the damp wind.
We are the slow dripping of kissing,
and we know the depths,
of every river's heart.
We turn our eyes to the sea,
and sleep in tidal pools,
just out of the sun's reach.

River Man,
give me your name,
and we will flow,
forever green
and forever blue.
With the little fish,
caught in our ebbing tides;
And just me,
and just you.