365 Poems/218 Visiting Friends (Rough First Draft)
I want to kiss the window
giving me the last view of
your head as it moves down
towards the station.
You’re visiting friends.
I’m jealous. I want you here.
I want to understand
the science of your smile.
I want you here, telling me,
again, the addresses of all
the places you’ve lived.
I remember the first time
my mouth bumped into yours.
When I ordered my second
glass of lime and soda because
I wanted to tell you I loved you,
after an hour, and knew it would
happen if I was drunk.
I go through photographs of you
on Facebook, scratch crosses
on my world map of all the places
you’ve been tagged in, then hide
it under our bed, in case you
see it, and ask what’s what.
Candles are getting wasted.
I blow them out so there’s wax
left for when you get back.
You bring about a change in me.
Make me want to take one long
distance journey after another,
I can see the grain of your prints
on the front door glass, where you
pushed it closed with one hand.
I touch them, remember the bruise
on your elbow as you hurried
to get ready to leave, the way
it twisted. Then, how even your
shadow told a joke, as you grinned
and bared it.
I open and close the door. Lock it
with the yale key, and hope you’re
thinking about me as strongly as
I am of you.