Rumi’s Abounding Love

“Hey Rumi, my man.
Jalaluddin how’s it going?
How are you doing?”

“Hello there, friend.
I am doing wonderful
on this fairest of nights.”

“Damn right you are.
Jalaluddin my man…
hanging out with your turbin out…
I hear what you’re saying.
Gotta wrap it up man,
no doubt about it.
God damn, Rumi!
You is my man.
You know that, you is my main man!”

“Well thank you dear friend
for your kind words
spoken under the pale
moon light.”

“No doubt baby!
Jalaluddin my man!
My main man. Jalaluddin.
13th century mystical sufi poet,
there’s writing about love
and god and mysticism
and religion and the soul
for you out there who don’t know.
My man Jalaluddin
he’s got the words flowing
like no-body’s business
describing the divine
thoughts its ineffable
he speaks riddles
but is so meaningful.
My main man Jalaluddin,
I’m your biggest fan.
Won’t you let me in?”

“Of course, friend.
Come in, enter my heart
and I shall enter yours
and we will bask
in fraternal splendor.”

“No doubt baby!
My man Jalaluddin
that’s how we do up in here.
He’s got a whole harem
of fine looking women
he writes poems about
day in and day-out.”

“Your words flow like
honey out of a bees
soft whistling humming.”

“Mmm mmm mmm…
there he goes again
Jalaluddin killing it
in the rap game…
nobody does it like my man.
An assassin of words
slaying it down
laying ground
pound for pound
the best there ever was
the best there will-be
he can get it going
serious or silly.”

“Please, my friend
no-more kindness
I can’t contain it.
I’m a vessel over-flowing
with Love.”

“No doubt, my man.
Rumi, rumi-nating
thinking it over,
He’s got-it going man,
get out of the way…
there’s no telling what
might happen
with his word-play.”

“Mmmm… yes, dear friend
would you like to come
into my tent?”

“Of course, Rumi my man
anything to hang out with
you I’m your biggest fan.”

“Good… that’s is good.
Please, come in
sit down. Make yourself
at home. Feel the soothing
purple velvet plush
on your skin.”

“Oh yea, feeling the velvet.
Feels good. Enjoying myself.
Feeling very comfortable.”

“Yes…. that’s right relax
your mind. Relax your body
relax yourself deep deep
into the velvet cushion.”

“OK… I’m doing that.
Rumi, my man
very hospitable
making me feel at home
I like it.”

“Come, let me your wash
your feet?”

“Umm… no problem.
Traditional semitic ritual.
I’m all about it,
let’s do this thing, here you go.”

“Mmmmm yes, the soothing
waters. Feel as my hands
glide, glide… glide
over your feet, one by one.”

“Umm… yea. That feels
good I guess, y’know.
Cleanliness is godliness
do what you gotta do.
My man Rumi.”

“Mmmmm… yes, it feels
good doesn’t it?”

“Umm… yea, it feels good.
Y’know, sure.”

“Yes! It feels so gooooood
rubbing your feet

“Umm… huh?”

“Yes! I rub your feet
so seductively ooooo yeaaaa
you are my guest
oooo baby…”

“Whoa… what’s that
uhh… Rumi?”

“Mmmmmm how I enjoy
stroking your silky-smooth
feet with my bare-hands
and the water
and oils and perfumes
smelling so so good
against the nape of your neck.”

“Uhhh… dude, what?”

“Shhhhh…. don’t worry.
Jalaluddin will make everything
OK… yes…”

“Umm… dude…
what the fuck?”

“Yes… there will be time for that later!”

“Whoa, dude!
Rumi man… are you gay?”

“I love all creatures,
man woman, god,
animals… ehh…
the ficus plant over there…
o how I love the ficus,
and yes, I love you too…

“Whoa dude, umm….
I think you got the wrong idea.”

“No, I have the best of ideas.
My idea is to have
sweet sweet sex with you.”

“Dude! What’s going on man?
Rumi man, say it ain’t so?
O come on dude, I’m your biggest fan!
I’ve been reading your love poetry
every night for the last 10 years!
Are you telling me…
youse a fagalech?”

“Shhh… don’t worry my friend,
we shall get to know each other
and play sweet music
of the skin-flute.”

“Oh my god! This…
this fucking sucks.
I am… deeply distraught
right now…
I really am at a loss for words here.”

“When love takes you over
words lose all meaning.”

“Yea, I’m sorry Rumi but uhh…
that’s not what I mean.
No, I’m just… a bit frustrated is all.
You’re gay, and uhh…
hey man, all the power to ya,
but umm… wow.
I feel awkward.”

“Shhhhh…. there is nothing
to feel awkward about.
It is all very natural…”

“Yea I’m sorry dude, but uhh…
I’m into the ladies.
let’s go ahead and uhh…
y’know, stop hitting on me OK?”

“I only seek to unite
with you in mystical union
the way the stars
and the moon
collide at night
under the canopy of darkness…”

“Yea, no I know. I get it.
You are gay… that is clear to me now,
and uhh… I uhh…
think I understand your
poems a little better…
so… y’know that’s cool.
Umm… I appreciate your hospitality
and the foot-job,
I mean foot-washing…
but uhh… yea man, I’m
gonna hit the ole dusty trail
if you know what I mean?”

“Dear friend, at first the mystical
path is filled with hardship
and anguish but the beauty
one may achieve in the end
is so glorious, the whole world
is filled with light!”

“Hey dude, listen I don’t know
what you’re talking about
with uhh… the glory and the whole…
and the filling with the light
and all that stuff…
but I’m sorry bro, I’m just
not into dudes, y’know?”

“O sweet prince,
do not deny your lover!
Your friend!
Your inner-most soul…”

“Yea, Jalaluddin…
OK, now you’re being a bit
of an asshole… Wait, mmm
no. I didn’t mean that…
umm, OK.
What I meant to say is
no means no,
and uhh… you should
respect that.
I know you’re a mystic
and you think everything’s connected
you seek to transcend common-place
norms, uhh… you blur the lines
so on and so forth
but I’m telling you man,
back the fuck off!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.
OK man, chill out dude.
That’s all you had to say.”

“OK, well it didn’t seem like you were ehh…
getting the hint y’know?”

“No I got you man, loud and clear.
No need for the hostility bro, its cool man.”

“You sure?”

“Yea dude, no problem.
It’s cool.”

“Alright Rumi, as long as its cool…
then I’m cool y’know, cool as a cucumber.”


“OK, then.”

“But could I jus-”

“No! Rumi!”

“But I only wanted to-”

“Rumi! What the fuck?
Jalala-DON’T! OK?
What is your problem?
I’m outta here!”

“Wait! My friend, don’t leave me!
Oh, this cruel cruel world.
It is so cruel, with its… cruelness.

It is tough being a mystic, y’know?
Maybe I should have listened to my father
and become a dentist.
They make good money and don’t have the same
malpractice issues as the MDs.
But, the grass is always greener, right?

My mind it feels like a whirling sphere of confusion.
Round and round it goes, but I stay here alone.
Spinning and spinning, dizzying thoughts
maybe I should learn to do the sitting meditation.
That might be a little simpler.
Y’know you try to dance with the stars but there are so many.
Maybe I should ground my head before the clouds come down.
How I miss my friend.

Do you think I came on too soon?”