Kiss Myself to Sleep
like a sleepy cowboy on a drunken horse.
All the sunlight in the world
swirls around my face
making grief more an irritant
than a state of the fucked. Still,
if you reach into my bag
you'll find a wallet with new forms
of identification maybe a ticket to something
a receipt perhaps and that's it.
Soon I'll tape them into my scrapbook
in order to travel forward in time. But to
be honest I sit and think about right now
more than back then because
you can't have what's never been made. Hanging
off the shower caddy is a washcloth
scented with vanilla and amber
I'll use it on my body and
kiss myself to sleep.