Heaven is here
concealed in my effort to make you mine
in the tea the boss offered me
while my freezing hands were feeding cars with gasoline
in the snowball you casted at me
in my naughtiness to get wet while playing by the sea
despite your whining to keep my self dry
in the murmur of the wind through the tree-leaves
in the waves breaking by the shore
in the frosty summer lager
in your warm body
and in your complaint about your chilly butt
in the sunset
in the sunrise
in the crescent moon
being filled by my effort to make you mine.
