Jeremiah 42: http://www.mechon-mamre.org/p/pt/pt1142.htm

I wanted to think of a poem, and I didn't want it to be about sex. The problem is, that the chapter is all about a yearning for connection, and missed desires. And it doesn't get much sexier than that. I could de-sexify it, by making up silly words and telling stories about my yearning for a connection to water, and how I didn't fulfill my desire of showering today - but that would just make me want to take my shirt off.

And exile just really makes me think of beds, even though I've gotten oddly accustomed to my own. That's a good thing, I suppose: I mean, who wants to go to Egypt, even if they have nice cotton? It's hard not read my own life into the text; as a matter of fact, given that the text was recorded for a reason, I'm not even sure its unethical - for all I know, the purpose of the texts might be that we read our lives into them, and the texts into our lives - a life-immitating art-immitating life- type of thing, that Oscar Wilde would despise.

I shouldn't speak in his name, since I haven't met him of course - and I think I was supposed to be pondering Jews asking Jeremiah to pray to God about whether or not they should go to Egypt, even though they'd already made up their minds to leave the holy land, and I'm not sure why that reminds me of breakups, or why I'm thinking about the lassagna I ate for dinner, and craving chocolate.

Or maybe I do know, but I just don't feel like sharing with my invisible readers, the mixed magnitude that caused so much trouble in the Bible, the rabble-rousers who convinced the Jews to cry that they wanted to go back to Egypt, instead of entering the promised land.

You promised me nothing, besides your body, and I promised you only with my eyes, which you drank in then spit out, like a camel.

An unflattering metaphor, for a man with deep brown eyes. Oh, let me keep up the cliches: Let me add in bouquets or roses, and "hazel". Let me keep writing, always, to keep myself from pondering a yearning for connection, and missed desires, religion and sex, and the link between them.

Let me keep writing till I close my eyes, and pray for dreams not graced by your presence. Let me have dreams graced by your presence. Let me taste your tongue, your thighs.

Let me-----