Falling asleep in the cul-de-sac

Last night, you crawled into bed, 

kissed my forehead and asked how I felt

about falling asleep next to you while it rained.

A car rolled through the cul-de-sac

a handful of times. Water from catch drains

sloshed dirty onto the lawns right before

automatic sprinklers turned on. 

You whispered it again and I told you

Give me like, five minutes to think about that.

I was hoping you'd fall asleep or turn on the TV

and forget about asking. All four corners of the room

were lit from the revolving door cul-de-sac car.

It's tires drowned out rain against the window

or the stray cat batting at low branches on a bush.

I guess it's good and bad, you know?

You pushed your head into my shoulder and 

took a long breath.

"I don't know what you mean."

The newscasters talk about a grand opening,

I know this from a montage of pictures.

I watch their mouths move with no words coming out,

just showing teeth and smiling.

There are nights when I have to sleep alone

and I ball up t-shirts and shove them in my pillowcases

so they feel more like a body. I'll wake up three or four times

and use the bathroom or get a drink. Then,

I'll lie awake and listen to music just loud enough to hear

over breathing and hope somebody walks into the room

to watch dusk and dawn say hi.

Well,

you fell asleep. That's alright with me,

as long as your promise to be awake

around 6.