Va', Tosca

Given the many threats I have made against God, given my forgetfulness of God, given my sniveling prayers, given that Tosca, that saintly hussy who dwells in my head, given I have created her from the whole cloth of my sacred, scared and scarred ego; that Scarpio riddled id of mine, prone as it is to dark corners, and blood-red sunsets. Given that she loves me in all the secret ways I can imagine, given all this, I am a child before her, and although the Argentine tango was made for sex, we dance it more naked then any flesh by the light of a bone-deep cellular glow, and always she whispers into my ear: ‘please don’t let me make you - forget God’.