smoke in your eyes. You make
beefy dreams smack of makeshift.
We’ve met like this for daydreams
then you’re out the door and me
always horny for a little more.
Beefcake this, pipe dream!
You could be as much trouble
and maybe worse! It’s why I
like you, right? So crawl into bed
with why not, whisper how it’s
only cuz your bunk is burning.
This goes on for days over a
junket of dreamed email. Sleep.
A junco flutters at your ear,
its pipe lit with meat sends
up a mere bacony wisp. And
you smother it with the covers.
Outside a little drizzle turns to
sleet. You wake to what looks as
hoarfrost, blink a bit to melt a
salty glaze, and exhale a wintry
exhaust. I can’t get you out of
my mind. We’ve met like this
before. A warmth like extra
breath beneath my blanket.
A day or so passes. I open a
door to vapor, a wisp of what
was never there. I burn the toast
Thanksgiving morning. This goes on
all winter. You blink a bit. And
January. A frozen smokestack. A
warm dream of rain. Opens a door.
You enter out of nothing, real and
full of warmth, kick out all the junk
til I’m awake, and all I’m ever is yours.
