I prefer the shaded part of the street
the side where we meet- in the heat of the summer in the city
She missed me when she went on the camping trip
Or maybe she just hated the camping trip

I tread close behind when you leave
succumb to the ease in following
Lost like a dog without its owner
rope locked into the chains of my collar

I struggle to admit that i desire anything
or that i'm better when i'm needed back
or that i wish she was with me during bad weather
that I still buy her noodles even though I prefer rice

You could find someone like me buried in the ground
Next to my wife of 50 yrs
arthritic fingers intertwined tightly across my stomach
the dishes that we used
The furniture that never moved

ill always try to let go
but her toothbrush is still in the toothbrush cup
and her swimsuit is still in my sock drawer
and recently i polished her old silverware as a surprise

god i love to pretend like nothings changed