morning poem

what a dream this morning
you and me two noodles entwined
bouncing up and flopping down
eyes bulging hearts bumping

we must have sounded like haiku do
when they're on a break or bender
cut loose from bonds of perfection
allowed to fuck and fly

syllables and symbols sloshing around
inside a cup of wonder
passing fluids back and forth
with goofy glee

bodies like ours don't need a sun
to give direction or purpose or light
we generate all the warmth we need
above and below the covers

there's no place I'd rather be
than inside your homey cave
warm and soft and spewing light
in and out of us.