Why We Don’t Burn Our Blankets

lowering the throw 
to the grass freshly mowed
placing shoes strategically
while planning for the stiffest breeze
and thinking:

I’d rather be jogging
among the trees surviving logging
where the sun be shining
like a teenager’s driving
and realizing:

I lay now like timber logged
because the breeze, by god, 
is colder than expected –
so I’m bundling up into a burrito
and believing:

my blanket is losing thickness – 
it remembers my times in sickness,
healthier days at the beach,
moments just plain awake
yet dreaming:

lowering the throw 
to the grass freshly mowed
placing shoes strategically
while planning for the stiffest breeze
and sleeping.