Sleeping Partners
She snores a bit,
but that's okay, together
we form the horn section
of a Brass Band.
At dawn
we practice together,
bending the knees,
and oiling joints with syrup
and black coffee.
When the sun climbs over
the oak in the backyard
I go my way, walking out
on my plodding paths,
she makes cupcakes
for the fairies that our neighbor
fervently believes
inhabit her hungry soul.
I have a few friendly demons,
and some drinking buddies.
In the late morning
I write stuff.
When evening
shuts our bodies down,
we sleep curled-up
in twill and puff
rolling our guttering togues
into the same
snore-along melody.
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