bath

in the future, somewhere,
you follow me through white canvas corridors.
the faces and paint splatters
that make me want to draw.
waking in each other's arms,
i fell asleep
and took away your warmth.

"you're so cold." says he

i am.
but with a plastic circlet around rosy flesh,
i'm the first sign,
third sign,
fifth sign--
wedding bells.
we'll have twins,
and a cottage by the sea,
like your grandparents before
old age crept over intimacy.