I sink into her couch,
The one that I say has many gravities,
And G forces that pull me prone
Among pillows overstuffed to plumpness,
And in complaint to her I say, this couch
Kills ambition and demolishes all motivation,
As I sink and settle into the cushions
That half cradle but most fully embrace me.
And it is lying there lulled on her sofa,
That all responsibilities slip from me,
Like so much pocket change that spills
And falls between the cracks in the cushions,
And all my promises and good intentions
Close their eyes
For a moment of rest
And then lapse into soft nothingness.
