Reading Lolita in Bed


I'm speaking awfully abstract now from my sheets
cotton of light by morning to pigeons which I hear only when
I feel turned on (don't take this the wrong way) like
a zombie and the air
entering my throat
is rigid because stones are too old,
because I've been alone for a long time in this head
and have to make do wine or water or coffee
and I take sips from each an even number of times to protect me from the air
which will choke me if it wants.

I had a dream in my bed which is the same bed as ever
once long ago that you had stood next to me in a cafe
the same cafe as ever and because I make things out of air
I had to get up and see you, same as ever but you
handled my change like a water cooling my throat at a party
I touched your back to move past like the air has to do and you
took from it impossible to
decide a girl is pretty can pull her out of a bed or up a mountain (it's just
one boot in front of the other) just now I heard meadowlarks
because you weren't looking or because you were and
you stayed anyway and You can't.