i was sittin rigid, just the same as
i’d been standin rigid, and my 
fingers looped around themselves, 
squealing slick against clammed palms.

you- 
hooded, slim necked onus, 
walk the courtyard cool and 
flat. 

got time to spare lately, to spend on 
making you, hard stubble lined jaw 
yelping at puberty’s end,
the fingers of my hands, 
roaming flicker quick along my sodden grasp.

each night before i sleep, i dream.

you, mouthed lust and perfect
date, wandering the jagged dark of
my head. 

i thought that-
sleep is not much more than 
my fluttering eyes and 
the rustling of legs against sheets.

but those moments before 
the dreams themselves 
are yr new home and

i could almost-sleep my life away.