It is 6 am,
Morning traffic, a cat, and solitude.
My apartment is filled with car noise, drinking coffee in bed, writing, and reading,
It is a workday morning,
Knowing that next is getting dressed,
A fast hair wash and check email,
Then away to work.
Will this change,
And do I want it to be different,
I enjoy the aloneness,
The coffee for one,
The farting loudly and carelessly,
Snorting out loud at nothing,
Like a cat batting at ghost bugs.
Do I want you next to me?
Do I want your leg all copper furry and long across my quilt,
All biked-up muscle and vine to tie me up,
Keeping me twined up around you,
Drinking your green eyes, not coffee,
Fuck the coffee.
I am afraid to find you next to me,
Afraid of all the wonder and terror and possibilities,
Afraid of your sharp smell, your tiny-fingered touch, and your heart,
Afraid of what it would be like to have all that here, and then gone,
It is now 7:30 am,
I get up to check my email,
And find a note from you,
All hugs and kisses and nicknames,
All let’s get together and sweet,
I cry from wanting,
You, it is you that I want sometimes.