And we won’t sit on the grass. It’s too wet.
But in the park I’ll sleep on your shoulder
and at night I’ll sleep in your bed on a
pillow of feathers with our legs wound up

like the knot of a pretzel. The warmth on
my thigh makes me feel whole and it’s raining
outside the window. Shot glasses on the
living room table and I’ll drink you up.

I’ll roll over your body in waves and
try to forget that I’m not the only
one, and when you take me out to dinner
you have spinach in your teeth. But I'll read

the lines of your face in my sleep, unab-
le to wake. It’s the only way to dream.