Sitting on the dock of the bed,
The wind contains me from your open French doors
(the opposite of my fire)
Next to you, Picture windows framed above
Free against the Colorado night sky...
Starry mountain high
We shake our butts nature nude
Skin on skin
Rustling Aspens just starting to Crisp
A musical soundtrack for our giggles
And the lottery we’ve supposedly won
Though
I still question if I could be enough
Or if you are
Or if or if or if...
We pass out.
And despite myself, I dream
( you are conspicuously missing,
though your hand rests gently on my thigh)
Instead, I am soaring through those trees
Above it all and onto the night sky
Like a Chagall Angel
Ready to blow a trumpet, blast it loud
Charging Gabriel
So strong Michael drops his sword
And Azrael wakes the dead.
I look back at you, us
Sleeping
And crave that slumber
Crave what is to come
So I climb back into my skin
With hope for a me, honest to me
For once.
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