Upside Down Crosses

I'm sorry I missed your call, baby.
I was busy-
busy juggling chainsaws
on the
Jet-Black Tightrope.

I'm also sorry for missing your birthday.
And Christmas.
And the entire last year for that matter.
I got a little tied up babe.
I was staking those homemade upside down crosses-
you know; the ones that you love-
to the ground and lost track of time.
I think I got lost,
probably on purpose.
On that desperate, dim corner
in the meat packing district,
where I once watched you nearly choke
to death on the morbid
pale fumes of subway steam,
malt liquor
and stale bum-piss.
That's where I met the neon God of the Nile.
It was his fault babe.
He helped me hammer my crosses into
the rotten soil for a few,
begged me for my last dollar,
then lurched back to the river with his rodents.
That's where I was.

I thought I'd caught a glimpse
of your face through the
rain beads on your driver side window.
It was raining acid gasoline that night
and I was drunk and terrified,
so I don't know...

Just don't ever forget about me
alright?

I'm sorry. I mean it.

Yours from the bottom,