funny how it’s fallen on me again
to make up for both our bad behavior last night.
It comes back with the second or third cup of coffee
having seemed so well deployed at the time
like, trying to write a poem not addressed to you
but there is no better you pretending to sleep
or me on a pile of dirty clothes
my curvy boner heavy on my belly
the room hot from the vent
smelling hot the window all blue
but where it was red or brown
you awake with your eyes closed
breathing that was it oh my god.