exit

i wake up
and there is an absence of light.
i stretch my eyes
and blink.

i'm not naked,
but i'm alone on the couch.

i stand,
afraid to go back to sleep.

reaching for the brushed nickel
of the midnight door,
i pour myself another drink
and proceed to enter.

everything but the blanket

as i'm sitting
at the center of the beach,
trying to figure out the equation
of how it all began,
i'll be naked,
as the sun pours gasoline into
the dryness
of my eyes.

"my sweet lord"
will playing in an orbit
around the axis of my head.

this juncture of the day will be red.
the twilight will be a darker hue
of yellow,

and despite the length
of everything i cannot remember,
this is how i expect everything
to end.