Traces fingers across the nearest plywood slat,
leaves a hand between two,
the temple door never snaps shut.
Before that the gauzy shell, clammy inside,
iridescent as the a/c kicks in.
Later the mattress, dropped,
then the side slats lowered,
then nothing at all,
and then the unknowable expanse of our queen,
whilst we make buddha bowls downstairs,
listening to Fiona Apple,
yes that's what happened to us,
as you extended outwards,
made a break for it
through so many layers of comfort.
here's to buddha bowls, fiona apple, and extending outwards past comfort!
ReplyDelete