Bed is a vehicle
Without steer or veering wheel,
No two wings or a keel
Make a bed typical.

Coitus, Dream and Day
Inside a bottomless trunk,
You drive it when you’re drunk
Or any other way.

An eye-opener
And a commuting teacher,
Your bed's not in Future
Nor is it Past’s inner.

On a one-way road
And a carpeted sanctum,
Your bed holds you welcome
'Til your eyes become sewed.