James Browning Kepple - Aftermorn washateria

A trance of snores and sweat
sweltering thousand count sheets
we roll our low behold human heat
to wake ravishing sordid turns of dreams

a marco polo you pop head out on pillow
reimage our breakfast feat of soggy toast
egg white and turnstyle fevered beats
yes, to snuggle toes in luminescent turn of switch

to wake omnivore desire of fresh air 
and tussle the wind blown holes in fabric softener
oh for today dear, we go
one hand in hand to the murky rainwashed streets

nothing but a pile of mammal skins 
stitched so close to the bone
that the fluorescent scent of bubbling precipice 
coalesces our head heavy with inkling cretin 

tie it to the may! I sway, and back to the swing
song of our rolling plywood and mattress
to die in such said accompaniment 
we will dine evermore on our waking retreat