After you’ve been home for quite awhile,
With enough time to eat and drink the fruits
of the daily grind, once you have watched your
favorite show and talked your favorite talk,
Their eyes tease the thought mused by many.
You decipher the lucid expression on their face
in no time at all, or in enough time to find their lips
pursed tautly against yours, and they say,
‘Every time we say goodbye’…as they lead you
to the digs of dreamland, you wonder why a little.
You caress the thought chewed on by most as they
****** your hand. (Your arm barely fondles the burly walls
of the hall they lead you through and through to the room
at the end of the corridor.)
You trip over a laundry basket for two. They laugh,
help you up, looking in your eyes, perforating the retinas
like those cheap knives at some tacky store. You make it
to the door, it creaks open just a crack to click the little flicker back.
The space is small but roomy, with enough slack to let on a bed,
with plenty of fixtures to plug plugs into pluggers or whatever you
call them. You stalk the sack without the stigma that pillowed its petals.
You pull back its folds to reveal the nectar between its leaves.
Fresh linen. Smells like the breeze. They say, ‘Turn off the lights.’
