I enjoy the way the light
shines on your forehead
like the sun scattering
arrows across the plains
of a desert

your unwashed hair
polishes it just right,

greasy and mirror-like

Your eyes are open
wide when you scrub
your crooked teeth
with the Hot Wheels
toothbrush;

I suddenly imagine
a navy blue 76 Chevrolet Camaro
speeding through
a busy-body city
with empty shoddy buildings
like it's the end of the world

Then there's the sound
of liquid crashing like
waves inside a tiny
tunnel

You turn off the light
and lay in bed next to me

'Your breath stinks,'

you say as you push
me to the side to make space

Groggy old me agrees;

you're just
as bad when it's
that time of the month

but I don't say anything

because I know how bad
it can be