The last time I slept here,
you slept next to me.
We talked about the beds we have owned
-- childhood, college, and first apartments --
and all the places we've made love
-- hotels in Paris, Montreal, DC,
apartments in Rochester and New Paltz,
couches all over the Tri-State Area --
and how the sex was always second
to the comfort.

Within a week of moving out,
your mother had thrown away
the twin-sized mattress
with the storage drawers in the frame
you had owned for
more than a decade.
You did not need it, you told me.
"Yours is the bed
I can never get out of."

The problem with this bed
is that it's empty.

04/03/2009

Author's Note: Prompt: "The problem with ________"

Posted on 04/04/2009
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