Wednesday, February 15, 2006

room service

i fell asleep with my muddy sneakers on,
my feet dangling off the side of the bed.
the morning after you told me i was cute
and that i drooled on your shirt
and could i please get off your arm
because you'd lost all feeling in it 6 hours ago.

when i asked if you'd slept you didn't answer.
instead you asked me what "wakarimasen" means
because i'd said it half a dozen times in my sleep.
you asked me what i dreamt about and handed me
the room service menu, pointing to the specials.

i got dried dirt all over the bed as i rolled
off your arm and took the menu searching for pancakes.
i told you about the clipper ship inside the shopping mall
and how tom savini was spraying fake blood
on ballerinas to protect them from the pirates.

i took off my sneakers and brushed away all the dirt.
you asked me to call for breakfast.
you wanted hot cocoa with whipped cream
and a sandwich with runny egg yolk and bacon.
i ordered pancakes and orange juice and two hot cocoas.

you fell back asleep before breakfast arrived
and i stole the whipped cream from your chocolate.


katy said...

it wasn't a real dream, but it would have been an awesome one! maybe i'll have it tonight :)

arch.memory said...

I kept thinking while reading, how flowing, how easy to read and easier to love your writing is. And in that way, how accomplished. You manage to handle issues of domesticity and tenderness, ones that could all too easily swerve into sloppiness, with such skill, that even your standard continental breakfast becomes poetic. I'm so happy...

katy said...

i love to hear you say "i'm so happy", arch. that's the most i could ever hope my poems to do, make you smile.