and by that, i mean

the happiest days
i wake next to you

and you don’t care what’s on my record
or how my breath smells
how much is in my bank account
or if when you kiss me you’ll get sick
or slicker
and turn into a frog

but you tell me you like my hair,
how it’s crazy in the morning
and like magic, i’m lying there
wreathed in sheets and sticky skin
no puddle from a wet dream

and i could dig deep in your pockets
when i’m looking for your piece
and take you out to dinner,
the fox inviting the rabbit for a date,
down all the wine and
pout until you pick up the tab

and i could very well stick around
until the big bets roll in,
then fold upon the wrong card drawn,
the queen baring daggers for breasts
stealing diamonds and hearts
from the starchy kings
who thought they were the trump

it could be like that,
no better, and at best —

but i’m more interested
in the size of your brain,
with ice pick in my garter
waiting for the skull to grow softer,
the muscles stringier,
the confidence to give in
to the sweaty beads of death

because i want to see what’s there,
on the interior,
how it will deteriorate with time,
if you will relax by my side

and by that, i mean,
i want to live and wrinkle and grey
and for you to watch my youth slip away,
realize it’s not so bad,
with leeway there comes relief,
maybe comfort isn’t a bore like they say

it could be nice to come home
to someone who always wants to share a bed
not for the fuck
but for practice in radiating warmth
in case the buildings fall,
the statutes collapse,
and all we have is rubble of this and that

all bodies look the same
and most mouths can say sweet nothings
but you chose me
for the same reason you call your mother
when you need a calming sound

and i wake next to you
because those are the happiest days
and you don’t snore
but hum like i’d hope a baby would
sleeping in my arms