for the real franny

i asked if you ever 

thought about 

the spiritual, 

and you said only the spiritual

was worth thinking 

about; 

i started with god,

but when you weren’t religious 

i wondered how to be spiritual 

without religion; 

and you said

it was more intuitive 

feeling, than rules 

and tradition

that I could simply love god 

and leave all

the rat racing

to the phonies 

in penn station, 

running mayhem,

as if

life was lived 

from the god damn 

front of the line;

besides, 

you had trouble thinking of god 

as a human 

or some form;

to you

the universe doesn’t care 

about one 

species 

over another

so i called you 

the next julia roberts, 

and you asked if you were 

as beautiful as the movies,

but we both knew the answer;

spooning vanilla yogurt 

with strawberries

like it was the one thing 

that kept us grounded, 

because we were, 

above it all, 

on some other roof top, 

in some other garden, 

from some other time frame,

with eyes out 

some other windows 

without doubt, nor fear

of being left behind,

of oblivion, 

in fact we welcomed it,

and swore with our

smallest fingers 

never to exit. 

some call it love, 

we called it home bound

and good company, 

the here and now 

the every day,

the should be would be 

could be if only, 

it were the right timing,

thank god it wasn’t  

lest we be too blind 

to see it 

as such.