In the lav with Charles

I'm spending ten minutes per wee
just to hang out with him,
which is a lot of time
in a person's day.

It's a dirty kind of lust:
one of pleasurable grunts
in hidden dark corners,
subterfuge and coveting.

He either makes the profane sacred
or the sacred profane,
I'm not sure which,
maybe both. But I do know

this dead man reaches
down, into my guts,
dragging my heart with him,
messes around there

makes me moan
oh yes thank you god
for this
and I want more.