Bliss

Have I sunk sludgy-quiet beside you? I can feel the mud between your toes with my toes. I am entwined with you, we are conspirators. Not co- yet. Could I breathe air into your lungs without you feeling a chemical change, I would slowly suffocate you in my air. Once I coarse through thick veins it would be, it would be official. My breath inside you, inhabiting you, you walk down the street, slinky-slowly. You extract $ from an ATM and lick each sheet clean, greener, before ironing flat between my picture and your license. A picture without a face, a blurred image, a cipher. Your license looks more like someone else I used to know, but flattens money precisely, but precise. You stoop next to pigeons, drinking deeply with them from the fountain; the water tastes of copper, and pigeons. You just ingested the hands of this city: your stomach, a mixer; your colon, a WWI trench. You close our front door too hard, giving me a start. Breathing my air back into my blood, changed though (calcified), makes me drunk and deliriously happy--sloppily so. I let my head dangle from the edge of our bed and let you kiss me to sleep, I dream of everything good. I wake up tangled in your body.