i once loved a boy
who lived on Wilson avenue

i could never get there fast enough
but always in my car, before i lock the doors
i sit very still and close my eyes a moment,
as if love needs preparation.

then covertly i look in his open living room window
and see him holding his guitar like an old friend
with his sleepy hair and that cat who is jealous of the
attention he gives me.
and i am looking at a person that i know in such detail,
and yet
not at all.

we hug big after i ring the doorbell
and i do not have the heart to say
how empty it feels.