i want your sunday mornings.
your “comeback to beds”.
your burnt tongue tip.
coffee breath warming cheeks.
i want your arms around my waist,
a special kind of straight jacket.

i want your sunday afternoons.
a midday trip to the record store.
a woman passes through the aisles
and tells me how she loves our love.
how young people love
with a special kind of fire.

i want your sunday evenings.
i want to soak up your anxiety in my bones,
hold both our traumas.
go to bed before the sun goes down
and make love.
a special kind of *****.

i want foggy mornings on delilah road.
i want your volvo swerving into the marshland.
i want your special kind of goodbye kiss.
i want your goodbye kiss.