809 Sugarmaple Drive
I mime the distance between us:
in the shadows of pre-twilight, my thoughts
connive against me.
I fell asleep thinking
how unused I was to company
(even such platonic company) in bed.
I awoke with my ankles nestling between yours,
with our faces inches apart.
But the blue orchids bloom china-white for you here;
like porcelain, they clink together in the breeze
many a (silent) budding cup for your
rain-sodden tea party.
Yeah; it rained on your birthday,
and I held you and laughed and we both
forgot ourselves in the downy freakishness
of the curdling window.