Let us take a walk in the sectarian streets,
breathe in the sectarian air,
hug the sectarian trees,
admire the pretty little sectarian
flowers
and listen to the sectarian songs
of the sectarian birds
soaring above us through the sectarian
skies,
and flocks of fluffy
sectarian clouds
(one of which, by the way, reflects
your sectarian profile,
or am I imagining things?)
And as we plunge through the
sectarian crowds,
leaving a sectarian wake of lecherous gazes
behind our sectarian backs,
let’s distribute some genuine sectarian smiles,
and help make the day of some hapless
sectarian souls
just passing by.
(All while laughing in our sectarian
hearts
at the sectarian fools
who fail to understand the
nature of our sectarian bond).
And
when we shall return,
at the end of the sectarian day,
to our beautiful sectarian home,
in our quiet and cozy
sectarian suburb,
let us bare our sectarian teeth,
and immediately dive
into our warm
always-welcoming
sectarian
sheets,
and make hot frenzied sectarian love
to
each other,
all through the cold and hungry
sectarian night.
And
when
we
shall
finally
fall
into
our
usual
deep
sectarian
sleep,
and begin to dream our usual foolish
sectarian dreams
(of God,
the Temple,
and the Hereafter),
let us remember, always
remember
what we sectarianly mean
to each other –
an impossible sectarian
undertaking,
a moment stolen out of
sectarian Time
that will, most assuredly,
not last forever.
All good things come to an end in a
sectarian world.
And love, no matter how true, goes
unfulfilled.
May 1998