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chance
sleeping under a pile of blankets
playing ping pong in a vacant lot
i'm sleepy from watching
the rally monkeys
i like to gamble on opportunity
and nap in the afternoon
on the living room floor
in front of the fireplace
there is no dancing on friday night
there is a poem that fell apart
during my nap
it was a cluster of words that
might have had too much attitude
it might have been way too funny
or it may have been the sweetness
i wish to express to you
sometimes it is just the ying
and yang of desire
i certainly would have
tossed a strobe light
onto your dance floor
and that is as intimate as i remember
but not where i would have my thoughts end
it's just the gamble of memory
and the confusion of slumber
