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.