I want to go to your church, yet I don't know what church you go to. Hell, I don't even know if you go to church at all...Maybe you don't, but still, you must go somewhere. And I want that, I want that place, i want you. But you don't care, of course, why would you?
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Perhaps that's why I want you to take me to church (not any church, though, yours). Because it's such a friendly, nice place, that then, maybe, you could just kiss me on the head and we could both be silent forever and ever and the loudness of the empty rooms would invade us and we would become happy, in the way that enlightened people are happy.
Because you and me, honey, we're definitely not happy. I don't know about enlightened, but certainly not happy. And we should be, we deserve to be.
So, we shall go together and stand...or maybe sit, together, in one of the pews.
Your knee touching mine, in that illicit, exciting way knees have of touching in churches. And we shall look up, and I don't know what we'll see, perhaps the cross, perhaps some great shining light, perhaps we'll see nothing, because we'll both – you and I – be thinking about how our knees are touching and how nice it'd be if they could keep touching forever.
For a second, we could have the illusion of a forever.
Then, each of us would go about his way. You to your home and me to mine, and we'll speak no more of how our knees touched or about the eternity that so enchanted us.
But it's worth it...for a second.