I want sheets one day past fresh
and enough pillows so nothing
every feels stiff or tweaks apart.
I want the windows open and
the temperature perfect for
I thought to want Cleopatra's
handmaidens to serve us but the
world is not big enough for us.
I want movies of every moment
like this playing on the ceiling
so we can stay very horizontal.
I want no visitors and cannot
understand that part of Brian
Wilson's seven year plan.
After several of these days, I
want to write a new poem
prescription including innovations.
I want more of Sunday morning.