My mother asked me.
Since she left you
all you do is sleep around.
why don't you find a nice lady
and settle down.

I answer her softly
I find comfort
in the lost hours
between today
and yesterday.
I find comfort
in the smell of
Sunday morning
bacon and eggs
being cooked
by a stranger.
in the kind whispers
that drown out
the cacophony
of memories.

sometimes
it's the softness
of a woman's breast
or the melting
of our heartbeats
beating like jungle drums.
or
just the touch of her fingertips.
that defibrillates my lonely heart.
sometimes Mama
spaceship earth fly's way too fast.
and I need to get of it.*

.