while everyone else is at the party

and i am tired
waiting on the couch for you to come home
remembering as i always do
how it would be nicer to have some good fiction around
something to keep me preoccupied
to keep quiet evenings

and for you to come home
because i don't want to be with everyone else
just you
if you could read a book with me
or just sit on the couch
we could light a candle or two
put on some music we don't know

i've been waiting since before i met you
because i've always thought of home
as this place where all that i've collected
meets those i love
salvaged years of bad poetry
away from the noise
in the silence of my room
i am firm and forbearing

(re)awakening

at once
glancing out of
worn tread time

finding again
a vast internal expanse


forgiveness is being yourself
full of grace
beautiful

it's emptying
eyes open
remembered music and words
so familiar again

at last

anointed

filing forward
for a bit of
smudged oil

it's sacrilege to say it
but it's a buzz
like your hand on my thigh
after a few beers

being touched
so intimately
being marked
being seen

gifts

gumball machine, now half empty
teapot
lights, colorful
electric kettle
couch
rug
chair #1
chair #2
chair #3
magnet, of my brother's golf picture
blanket, homemade
pillows more stolen than gifted
printer
"mighty orca"
solitary wine glass
box full of trinkets
autographed baseball
blue headphones

generosity abounds
and I am full.