Sometimes I walk up the dusty path through the dry grass
Under the ancient arch of crumbling stone
To where the path trails into the colorless water
And I lay my bones down
Just at the water’s edge among the reeds
Under the fringe of bleak-bleached willow fronds
Feel the water rock me in its arms
Indistinguishable from my own heartbeat
And wonder at the beauty of lukewarm oblivion
Inexplicable in its comfort
Sometimes I wake up in a warm bed
In a soft quilted tangle
To the purring of thunder
And the flicker of lightning
Gleaming on a curve of bare shoulder
And maybe I press my nose where the hair curls at the back of his neck
Or nuzzle my face between warm shoulder blades
And go back to sleep
In this place of warm dark saturated color
Sometimes
Maybe?
We are again together, but in a library
Where the windows look out over the brush of trees
Down to where the lake shines below
We are alone in the forest of shelves
Making love on the carpet
In truth I sleep alone
