Come Breakfast
Adrienne excels at jerking me awake.
Waits for an erection to betray I’m dreaming.
Insinuates her fist around the shaft.
Quietly bespits the knob.
Salutes – up and down – the pictures
moving through me, moving in on the plot.
This morning I’m bailing from a cockpit,
slipping into the stream, leaving the plane above,
plummeting rock-like, fumbling for the cord.
My thumb finally finds the ring. I rip.
The chute deploys a jellyfish of silk,
jerking me up – so fast the jerk
drops the acceleration of the fall.
The earth I now behold floating up at my face,
facing Adrienne’s laugh, as her frantic fist
makes to squirt between us me awake.
Smell on a bedside tray the toast,
the butter, the coffee, the jam.
