four days later [poem 2]

                by Sonia Minden



that night
we were copper-colored
holding hands in the backseat we
drove past the dollhouses and neon squats
popping sleep cylinders and dozing off to the
liquid glitches of auralscapes our psychodelic body fluids touching
barely on the couch now our
noses grazing faces down and burning from wonderment
dizzy from tightly knit dream cycles we are
human lakes flooding contents from their corners
sun spots bleeding through dark in-betweens
light sucking the sleep behind wandering pupils
mine or yours
too humid to tell
the tweed pillow prints our cheeks with plaid
and i wake up next to you four days later.