Sleep and Vapors

Wind is a lick of warm and highway sounds
June bug wings and the road behind.
Spit on a sleeve.

We make small motions
big and mating breath
the smell in here is hardly anything but
it belongs to me.

Potatoes rot in the coffee
and raccoon shit,
the vegetables of grass and leaves
making hot chemistry with water.

The wind fills with water
the spring shadows the day heat in the night.
Still, a breathe of winter makes
cool the night
and the stalks sigh,
the branches orchestrate.

No rest for the wicked,
they wish and make might
they recoil and flee.

There are many cold rough tongues in the leaves
They sing and I purr and sigh,
another day we alight,
fall back on the mounds
and boulders in the dug up soil.

There are your taught shoulders
The banana tree looks like a bow-tie on the bricks out here.
It's not so dignified.

I'd fall asleep
and will
cuts me off from dreaming
of his dewy lip
   her cool white shoulder
his cracking hand.

The bird neck cranes
Red Wing Blackbird on the fence.
The whirr of highway and the water in the air.

Don't we twist and bend so nicely into blue
black sky all studded with
stars and regret, our dreams and mouth.