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before bed, we
stretch our goodnights into a minute, then ten more
procrastinating on sleep like it’s an overdue term paper
we’re both too old for school, so
teach me instead about
the freckle in the middle of your shoulder blades
or the fine black hairs between your brows
and i will show you my retainer, bruxism-scarred
from years of midnight grinding, stress lashing out of me
you will laugh and call me a superhero when i put it in, and
for a moment i forget i ever felt embarrassed to wear it in front of anyone
rather,
i talk in a lisp
of the mundanity of daytime, down to the dripping sink and
a David Attenborough documentary
until my syllables bump into each other
like lazy pandas
my tongue clicking on warm plastic
and you lay on top of me
our bodies melting into this mattress,
the warmest waking dream