from the second level of a parking garage
we drop baseballs
in hopes of hitting
the discolored
mattress
we pulled
like a magician’s
tablecloth
out
from under
the sleeping
man
who by all accounts
is still asleep
abandoned fully
to ****
dreams
where one or two
of us
will find him
and spoon
his eyes
to ask them
what more
could they
meet
but for now
what metaphor
thinks we are
is game