Head On The Table

At home in the world,
I frequently sit down exhausted
with my head on the table. 

What’s nice about it
is that I can leave it there
and walk away
if I so desire
because in the next room,
there’s a person who won’t mind
my headless stumbling
and the constant
falling over.   

She’ll help me set it back
on my shoulders, sometimes
playfully spinning it like a basketball
before reattaching it.
I get so dizzy and rattled 
but it’s not all that bad
to be that way
after spending a day
pushing it through mud
and manure and
slop I won’t name. 

Love, they call it,
when there’s someone there
to do that for you —

I would call it that as well,
and will
as soon as I get right
and stop giggling.