I'm so damn tired of waiting for you to come along, I know you are out there, your funny, caring, a good-listener, like to cuddle, wake in a bed that is rutted with our passion. I know your patient, forgiving of my shortcomings, as I am yours. I see us on Sunday mornings sleepishly staring at the paper over coffee discussing whats new in the flower garden. You let the dog out while I feed the cat. That darn cat. You know I prefer dogs but you had to have it ;)
(pause)
I sleep with double pillows. Is one of them for you- or is it you? My bed is heaped with books of poetry.
I fall asleep on yellow legal pads. The love of printer's ink & think new pads!
A poet has to fall in love to write. Her bed is heaped with papers, or with men. I keep your pillow pressed down with my books. They leave an indentation like your head. If I can't have you here, I'll take cold type-
& words: the warmest things there are- but you.
Location
Maryland