I awoke on a creaking ship,
but that isn't where I went to sleep.
The bed was long and skinny.
The blanket wool, coarse, and warm.
The seas where as flat as newly opened tub of ice cream.
There was only the gentle sway
that comes with being afloat.
The occasional sound of the ropes and pulleys
and the loose flap of a sail
came into the room
from the open door
where a triangle of sunray had also entered.
But then came a giant swirl.
The room became blenderized.
And I soon noticed the wood floor wasn't wood at all,
but simply the linoleum of my kitchen floor.
Thank goodness the sun was real though.
I want a foreign bedroom.
I want you there in a robe.
I want to put petals everywhere.
And I want to smell the air.
I want to say 'I want you'.
I want to hear it back.
I want to feed berries.
And I want to lick the chocolate.
I want a soundproof room.
I want a rented car.
I want a dark dinner.
And I want to see you again.
I want to stop waiting.
I want to breath again.
I want to live.
Don't be a mouse, be a lion
