We build temples to eternity, shattered into moments, to the fleeting animalistic poetry of humanity. I run my fingers across your skin, bury my head into the strength of your shoulder. For weeks I will dream the taste of your kisses, the tug of desire at the center of our gravity. But I build only temples, places to worship memory, to call out to god. I will leave the building of homes to other bodies.
December, 2003