Every time I swing on my old leather jacket 
and leave my dirty, dusty, rough, and battered, 
beautiful, comfortable, warm little house 

I hope I’ll see you round about 
in your pretty dresses, gym gear, 
or old jeans and raincoat, 

and I hope your bright eyes
and trembling smile, your neat hair,
your strong arms, your broken heart, 

your words and wisdom will open wide, 
hold me, take me, and gently drag me 
somewhere deep, untouched, and distant

where together we can release, softly sink into 
and silence – not suffocate or subdue – 
the wild, wild, wild, wild, wild wildness. 
 
So, I always carry a scrap of white paper,
neatly folded and tucked into my tiny, empty wallet
with my name and number scrawled upon it; 

just in case I get the chance to give it to you.

Listen to it as a song…