Clamped in a cold stream
while a white shirt
a crisp white shirt
waits.
You can walk while I just waste.
And carnival ties
are undone for good
at the bottom of my bed.
Any daydreams
left undone
are fastened away
not exposed ever again
to the wrinkling light
of growing pain.
Tidied up
from my breakfast bar brain
‘til you eat again……
or until the rain turns red.