sky blue sofa surfer

sky-blue-sofa-surfer ~

The joints are lifting,
knees and elbows and wrists
scream to attention
wind in, spring back.
I've been on the sofa too long.
We don't talk about it.

I want to be a crow or owl
or a fucking red kite
        and fly from here,
you could never touch me,
your feelings would not matter,
hers would not matter
and mine would be far
smaller.

'Is that a vole,' I'd think.
A shrew in the haylines,
in the violent fields of rape.
I'd be undisturbed bar walkers
who stop in their tracks, just a moment,
to quietly wish they were me.