My plane is late.
I missed my connection.
You are right on time.
You already decided to wait.

I'm hurrying for nothing.
You came out of nowhere
to take my hand
as easily as passing a baton.

You lead me away
and I let you.
The waitress has turned to leave.
Grief is melting.

You ordered our second drink
when I wasn't looking. You
and the candle are somehow related.
Your eyes barely flicker.

When you smile
you are careful with your laughter
as if you knew
I was too sleepy to understand

and would ask foolish questions.
The path to my bed
involves cars and people and money,
things I do without thinking.

Only fatigue would allow me
the candor to ask myself
how long you have quietly
let me take care of you.


more work by this writer