To My Duvet

I do owe you an apology,
an apology for leaving so early this morning,
I could tell you were begrudgingly allowing me to escape
to slip quietly into my shoes and out the door
away from our ritualistic torques and contortions

away from the far side of the moon;
away from empty metal pitchers and endless lines;
away from girls bleeding out;
away from us digging bullets out of thighs;
away from goldfish with fox heads;
from strange thin blonde women on busses
preaching about the over-commercialization of tentacle porn
and how it has created bastards of our children;

away from the rings of saturn
with their resounding whistle
the ring that echoes through space
and you know that somehow
home is calling
you answer.

I often
I couldn’t
for that
I apollo-

were as
sweet as
you simply
let out your
feathered sigh
and rolled

I heard you
settling as
I pulled the
knob quietly

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