Night was when I saw you last;
Splayed in a haze
and sick as a pig,
you malingered there 'til dawn's shift.

Sipped some tea before we met
that time--kissed its unctuous cheek--
but thought of you with my head adrift
in my kitchen still;

a menagerie I discovered I've fixed
of spools and spoons and sporks,
all sharing your audacious contour
of clocks, tires, topological wires.