On the top bunk
the
lovers embrace--
arms and legs and
dreams intertwined.
But
on
the bottom bunk
the "strangers"
(as you call us)
endure
their share of
jostling elbows and
asses--
though an arm
draped
precariously over my waist
gives me reason to wonder
of the
possibilities.
And so
I steal away
on dainty virgin tiptoes
to
my own welcoming bed,
a harbor from
my confusion
and tainted
intentions.