Waking up without you is as impossible
as waking up with you is too,
since waking seems most irresponsible
to all of the love we’ve made so soon.
For if we were to lie in bed
for all our lives we’d only spend
giving head, in heads, our head
wouldn’t be so drenched, enviously portend
weaker links, broken curls, and tired sins.
Since we still proceed to rise, let me speak
of tired times, filled with lover’s eyes sans
the cries for love’s demise, all-in-a-blink:
My love remains in any ‘stance,
prepared for frivolity or romance.