It's too cold for my arms out in the real world.
They circle and come back under the blanket
Together, like synchronized swimmers,
Dipping back under the waters.
Their long pale pinkens until they dare
To come up and out again,
Just to my face this time
To rub the sand out of my eyes,
These twin cats of mine that dart this way and that
After the same goose feather.

And slowly I emerge from the down.
I evolve with each step toward indoor plumbing.
My arms dark with blood,
Prepared already to fend off the jealous.
My mind accepts the awareness
And the state of being,
I was taken first over all
In the NFL draft.

-jenn