picking my nails before bed

between the second where my toe nail snaps
i see solitude
feel the freedom of a sharp edge
and yowl madly at the ecstasy of loss.

the right thumb
remembers the left toe
with the gentle yearning of a boy
for impending manhood

the left toe
the right thumb
with scattered dreams
of jubilant July sunshine
and the massaged nipples
of nubile young girls just out of view
of their mothers.

the remains soar by the nightstand
to remain unfound
by this generation