It’s the word that opens the door,
fires the synapse picture throughout my body.
I ask if you want to watch another episode.
Another episode. We’re forty-five together,
we have a child, a European Sleepworks bed.
We’ve been to Bangkok and Amsterdam
and Sandy Eggo. Where haven’t we been?
Sleep is our only pause between episodes,
and even the roustings and night make
some kind of plot. My whole body
is with your whole body; and in a second
I’m overcome with the lucky circumstance,
melted into a sort of love-flavored Jell-o.
But with all natural flavors. And then