He’s warm and soft and tempting.
He even smells warm.

But I don’t have time for this—there’s work to be done.
I know I should take him out, fold him up, put him away,
and shut the drawer
for good.
I know better.

But he smells—he smells so warm
and new and clean and tender and gentle.
He’s beseeching me to climb in, to allow myself to sink
into his all encompassing embrace, to ignore all reason
and carelessly float in his soft-smelling air,
feeling his comfortable warmth all around me.

I know better.
I know his routine, but still
I’m torn every time.

Every time I find my mind wandering,
foolishly entertaining the ideas he proposes.
It could be so warm and safe—that home inside the dryer.
If I’d just climb in
maybe I wouldn’t feel trapped,
longing for room to stretch and air to breathe.
Maybe the hot, sharp edges of his zippers wouldn’t burn me
this time.
Maybe I would be happy
with him in our home inside the dryer.

But each time I dance with these thoughts, the music halts abruptly—

I know better.
His soft, comforting warmth will not last.
In his darkness, he will become cold and wrinkled.

Right now he is tempting, teasing, enticing.
But
I know better.

A person cannot live inside a dryer.

I wish to close my eyes and bask
bask under the warmth of the sun
ignoring the due dates and time constraints
feeling only the warm embrace

I wish to close my eyes and play
to play with the bright reds and oranges and yellows
watch them fade in and fade out.
to squeeze my eyes tightly and experiment
with the different color variations
the tighter I squeeze the darker the reds and browns and blacks
the lighter I squeeze the more yellows and oranges shine through

I wish to feel the wind as well
to feel the wind rush back and forth
throwing my hair against my face

I wish to squeeze my eyes tightly one last time
then open them widely
to see the grass as green as a late June afternoon
to see the sky as blue as a Floridean sea
to feel and see and be at peace

at home
swinging
when I was six

and didn’t have due dates

I must have known how
to breathe before I knew you
but now I'm not sure