Past The Point Of REM Sleep, I Dream Of Sex

we finish in the cloudy

haze of dream, sometimes

i’m both the witness

and the participant.

left alone afterward like

an orphan in a movie,

dirty and naked left to my

own devices,

never finding clothes,

always in a busy

intersection, collecting

bodies as I move forward

through traffic.

strolling down white-lit paths

thinking the hereafter

would not approve,

however long

suffering those saints seem,

they would not let me in

without a robe to cover

what is, undoubtedly, my finest

feature.