i'm on the path to the road
to the paver stones of salacious intentions
i am watching august move to september
from season to reason
my eyes are counting sheep
without my approval
my days are filled with dreams of naps
the kind where i wrap into your arms
empty bottles are baggage
on my front porch
and there are messages
to put in everyone of them
about desire
and you are the wish that floats away
on the ampersand between gin & tonic