The hair dryer and me

I love it here in my bed with my hair dryer:

a wind tunnel of warmth in my blanketed cave--

elbow aloft, tented for safety, a sleep slave,

curled in comfort, stilled in limbo, need I arise?

Many events wrought me here to this single bed:

riding horses, swimming across rivers, making

lists, being kissed, saying goodbye, “apron strings”;

taking care, doing my best, saying hello, “death”.

The day begun and yet is done, the bright sun fades.

I, at ease under my covers, a fetal knot --

These days of life for which the first were made are not

as enticing as they once were and now have frayed.

So stay! Lulled in sleep, snug as a bug in a rug,

cozy as it is, what I wouldn’t give for a hug.