My sweet, each night I climb your fence
        and peek into your window
  (for I am the mad midnight stalker of crazygodlove)
        to see who you're sleeping with

  A few nights, you dance and play so hard that
  you crawl into your bed as if she was your Lover
  (those nights are my favorites)

  Some nights, you curl up
  with this or that prophet(eer) and
  the hollowness of their abstract words infects you

  Others, for all the frenzy and volume of your passion
  the distance between you and your mate
  is measured in miles, not inches

  Then there are the nights that
    you count,
      you toss and turn,
        you lay waiting
          for the day to begin.


  On these sadder and lonelier nights,
      you forget 
  who makes your bed.


  This poem is a quarter I put on your nightstand,

                Use it!

  Let yourself be caressed into

  this transcendent madness

  by your Beloved's ecstatic Magic Fingers!






--
written 22May03 revised 23May03
(c) 2003 nadeem (at) artisart.org