point

sliding down the seven
seven (thirty)
three? glowing laughing lines
of gold and green blur by
and two days we are
us and laughing i think back
you're in our bed and i am up,
i am a thing made up of sorry,
i think back on pleasant dreams i think 
        back on
	    if i shed my skin,
		bark clambers up my shins
		losing signal or the minerals
		dried burnt and sun-cooked
so subsumed i
              want to live off strawberry syrups
              and sun in your hair