I just want you to understand
that although you are
trying to forget me,
we share a year's worth of
memories, habits, secrets.
We adjusted our singular pattern
to coincide with each other.
I cannot remember what it
feels like to sleep on the
left side of my bed. Or the
middle.
I do not know how to stop making
one cup of
homemade Black Cherry Acai Berry Oolong tea and one mug of
stark black coffee. I do not know how to remember last year without remembering
you.
I do not know how to stop
remember you.

I found your old copy of
the Good, the Bad and the Ugly
while looking for The
Never Ending Story last night,
and for the first time ever,
I cried at the sight of a young
Clint Eastwood outfitted in
Southern drag, his
handsome face now dustied
beneath my fingertips,
wishing that you'd pat
a spot next to you on my bed and say,
come on babe, give him a shot.
It's Clint Eastwood!
This time I'd say yes, put the DvD in
and we'd lie together watching
the Good the Bad and the Ugly
all come and then leaves us.