Layabout

Is this what getting old feels like?
How strange.

Find your way to the floor
let the your wrists pin you in a sunbeam

in dreams, absconding.

my friend
my lover
my bread

come lay with me here 

hold an ankle, breathe in a bare neck, sour with sweat

let the world ripen. Let it rot.

Old flowers made new again.

in wave
in quanta

These are all prisons
Our cells lay side by side