6.4.06

You're rambling next to me and all I hear is the sound,
looking down at
the alley's dirt dusting my chipped
toenail polish and thinking
about the what-ifs you're breathing.

...hours later, you've
left and come back with cigarettes for both of us.
I'm trying to hide
the dirty bottoms of my feet while you
talk again, fill my room with
hazy speculation, and
we make up for lost time.

The best part:
to wake up
wrapped up in you, just like old times
but with faith intact:
the most you did was
kiss my shoulder when you thought that
I was asleep
(came and went like a junebug stumble).