Naked Man

Who is this man who sleeps in my bed?
Where did he come from?
How did this come to be?
Sometimes, it's hard for me
to make a connection
between my life as I know it,
and the long lanky form,
that is so comfortable in my presence,
that he sleeps in the nude.

Oh, naked man,
What will become of us?
It seems I am inconsistent,
a curse perhaps,
of my gender,
or possibly the fault of the hamster that runs my brain.
He's always running somewhere.
Around in circles on his wheel.

I have trouble picturing the future,
even while looking at you,
so helpless,
so without defense,
so comfortable,
under my scrutinizing gaze.

You sleep,
pretty naked man.
Go on and rest your weary head.
I'm afraid no such comfort comes my way.