ten a.m. you show up unannounced,
your voice on the other side of my door
calling my name,
breaking me from dense sleep.

it takes me several moments
to decipher reality from dreams.
that this is you in my bed,
you are the wake-up call
and you smell like the house we used to share
and your eyes are as vibrant as i can bet they were
when you were a child.

you sit and watch me dress
and i think a million things as i step
into my skirt and feel your eyes watching
the small of my back,
tickle up my spine and
up my neck
as i pull a sweater on half-heartedly and shrug.

it seems more natural for you
to watch me take them off
than put them on,
but that is neither here nor there,
and we most keep in lines of appropriation.

you whisper something soft you won't repeat.
your arm around my shoulder.

now what?

we walk stoned near the water
and i skip stones,
feel small when i'm around you
towering over me like protection.
i feel safe and endangered when you're around,
i know i'm vulnerable and on edge.

and this moment is perfect
with our swinging legs along the river
and i'm thinking how i really have
to fucking use the bathroom and
that i always ruin everything.

but i try to ignore it as you
cup my palms in yours,
make me feel innocent in your overgrown hands
and you put your face in my hair
and breathe.

and it's time to go,
and i know you're leaving again.
i want to hug you but i can't,
i let you drive away waving
and you're leaving for a month
and we make promises that
i somehow know we'll keep
because we're like that.

and i don't hate you today,
and i can't think of anything else
besides how much i don't hate you.

and i think how it's strange
that we're predictable together,
and that in crowded rooms
we always find each other's expressions
to search out,

because really,
the only sense i've ever made of anything
was when i saw it all come together through your eyes.

06/09/2006

Posted on 06/09/2006
Copyright © 2024 Lauren Singer