i've been running low on fuel, this rocketship needs to land. i find myself floating in darkness, my shirt's disheveled, i'm vacuum packed...

and maybe all these mishaps, of missing busses and trains and classes, of wondering if homer will finally blow us up...of slipping on jelly donuts, their guts laid out in clumps, or watching the doggy poo on the ever ambitious ant...

maybe it'll all wash clean, and come out springtime fresh...corners starched with a purpose, to hide my IV drip...

how i want to rest in the folds of your muscles, in your clean bright glistening...how i want to wrestle, strike up a body conversation, respond with
make believe language, o's and ah's and yes...

hook me to a lifeline, play me a sadsong mandolin, Bella's song is flying through Italian air...through the galaxy...

with one quick prick, and tape around the hub, please make love with my catheter, let me drink your sweet juice...