i've spent my life lolling about,
taking easy roads to pastel-colored beds
tangling limbs,
rubbing skin with the seasons.

i've slurped at the nectar of writhing ****
with the fullness of the night sky behind me

and as she swooned,

i felt the moon watch my ignorant head,
felt the moon fill with suspense as i rejected the sun:

i've poured water all over the papier-mâché goddess
and slept on top of soggy lumps
in a cement box,
an idiot vandal.

and i thought about life.
and i told you about my thoughts.

so i stay moored and safe, mom & dad
i stay
deep beneath the waves,
scrubbing months of crud from the decks.

and the moon is heading for the churning sea
and the fragile cradle of my dreams is going down...

i'm thinking it is time
to sew a new season--
and turn the rest green
with unrivaled verdance.

so i turn to the ***** noctis
and start gently