again light blinds through my windows
yet I’m not incensed with a fury to write.
maybe the Divine is toying with me
to see-saw the clouds so
I can’t get a sense of the day

I’m wearing two sweaters.
the one you picked
and a useless one without pockets.
who the **** kind of a monster
would create such a thing?

I’m angry today and cussing into my poetry
the way you strangers cough into your arms
so aggressively nowadays.
did you know sneezing on someone
makes you a terrorist now?

I would give anything for a sneeze of yours.

nights of cramped, sweaty, tangled bedsheets
you open the window to cool off
while I shiver, clung to you

I leave work, step off the train
and walk to where you are.
we hold hands.

I smile at babies,
make conversation with the nice lady
who asks me to watch her cart

you fidget when she asks about your shirt
I laugh, charming.
you cannot wait to get out of that line
and home

put on the game while
I unpack the bags
so we can watch your team.

I rest my head in your lap,
dreading the cold walk back to my place.
but that’s a worry for later.
for now we will play house