Today is one of those days, despite the sunshine and crisp September
air talking about Autumn, when all I want to do is splay this body
(half bent with booze and hangover) across a bed and next to
some-warm-thing.
Just a creeping of fingers and dreams all afternoon. That would be contentment.
Ho so great that would be.
Wandering between dreams and skin.
Muttering poetry into the pillows and off the ceiling.
Proving that people are good.
A place where and when 'tomorrow is a long place' away.

cg