the sheets are green
with veins of colored clothing:
a pair of jeans,
a t-shirt,
a single sports sock
illuminated by a lamp craning its neck
the fitted sheet has opened its lip
and grinned a strip of stained mattress
against the wall
your silhouette
rakes its hand through its hair
lungs expanding against cracking plaster
your arms refract on the spines of textbooks
and nicnacs your mother sent you from your room at home
usually I force myself coherent by now
but tonight I am content
watching you and your clinging twin
living lives identical but changed