This is not
the same world
we once lived-

You let me know
when you're ready
for that little thing-
(and it's such a tiny thing)

Whatever you want.

The whole world revolves around your sudden hand.
The turbines creak into motion, and a spark jumps the infinite gap between your finger

                                                              and my wrist-

I've been shuffling
the house at night
for months, like
a busy-

There's so much to do-
and I get it done
slowly like a glass of wine
filled with a leaky eyedropper-

          by the time the
          glass is full the
          wine has gone
          to vinegar, the
          wine is vinegar-

And I finally crawl
into bed beside
you, guilty as if
I'd actually gone somewhere.

You move your finger away, and I can feel the place where you didn't touch me with it.
The spark died a horrible death somewhere along the way.

                              Maybe tomorrow-

There is something
          terrible inside you when you
          wake me up every morning because I no longer hear the
          alarm clock. I don't know who put it there, but you hold it tightly
          in your chest and it
          makes the little
          muscles in the
          sides of your neck stand
          out.

You still have
an honest smile
for me when you
get home from work
but seem so
tired and so
ground-down.

And we're both
smoking again-
          (little sins)

When I come
to bed you
always scootch
your back up
against my belly
          with a little murmur
a sigh and a
sleepy smile-

Why can't we be
as comfortable
awake as we are
when we sleep-

And why am I afraid of coming to bed?

When you're ready I will be ready and we will live the world we once lived in a tomorrow full of sleepy smiles---



title courtesy of prole's homenode

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