pillow

we rest our heads on hamburgers.
i reach under & come out with ketchup
& sauce on my hand, smear it on your cheek,
finger paint. the smell of ground beef
whispering hooves into our ears.

i can't sleep again so i take out
the pickles, two of them & step them
over my eyes. the vinegar stings & 
the salt makes two oceans in my face
where my eyes had been

we drift in them, one body of water
for each of us, an inflatable 
sesame-seed raft getting soggy, 
ice-berg lettuce wings, i walk
across the bridge of my own nose
to kiss you & tell you i'm sorry 
for all the mess

you always fall asleep first.
i watch you & i take out the
ring-slivers of purple onion,
use them as halos on you,

they glow because you're holy.
i count the sesame seeds like sheep,
dropping them onto the floor as i do.
when i'm done & not asleep yet i
start over, picking them up &
counting backwards

i have a fear of eating the patty meat 
while i sleep, the smell protruding,
seeping into me. i feel cow-like,
i walk heavy & on all fours
to the bathroom to find a mirror,
in it i see the grease stains 
on my lips, i wipe them off on 
the back of my hand, i return

to the bedroom & eat the one 
under your head too.