We're In Heaven

The humidity had clung to the skin on her ribs
And it was almost pretty
But the way she was thrown across the bed
In a position like reaching for the phone
Or stretching after a dead sleep
Her breath was in the air
It was bitter
And stale
Laced with delicate notes of
An erotic sigh
And meth

The sheets were crumpled
And they looked like the love notes
She had written and thrown away
For her teacher
Who was also her father
The words didn't ever work
And she didn't believe any of them
But some rule in the city culture was
You had to feel something for someone
Or you weren't going to heaven

Was it Ryan, or Bryan Adams who said it

"Baby, you're all that I want
When I'm lying here in your arms
I'm finding it hard to believe
We're in heaven."

The infant in her rigid arms stirred
He was like a little cloud
Brushed past by the wind
And he stayed
Suspended between her arms
Which looked to be
Giant oaks
In comparison
To his tiny
Body.