We are fighting entropy 
in our sleep.

We fold the blankets halfway over, 
fill our brains with blue light,
fall asleep on our sides. 

I recognize your desperate face
in the moon's craters. 
I find your fingerprints 
on paper bags, my bedroom door knob, oranges: 
sweet smelling with the nectar of cities
and dirty rainwater, pouring down broken pavement
after the first spring storm. 

I wouldn't say I'm looking for you,
just noticing the way traces of you
are sprinkled over my life. 

I might be falling apart,
I might miss something I've never had, 
I might accidentally love everyone who smiles at me,
but I refuse to believe I'm the opposite of chaos.