Birdwatching

This is my life:

A girl that loves me

in the next room

dialing wrong telephone numbers.

She desperately needs to get in touch with me,

or god, or some body.

 

A finger hunting for the right disease

in a moon lit room full of monkeys

does not scare me.

A life on the tracks is ok

as long as you don’t believe in anything.

I would touch Jesus

if he promised not to touch me back.

 

So why does she believe in me?

I’m a monster,

minus the tail,

killing the wind.