With your cats watching us.
With your glasses on,
With one of my boots still on,
With your shoes staying on,
With the doors,
When the next press of the snooze button,
Could not be more than mere seconds away,
When you are trying, so hard, to continue talk,
To your friend on the phone,
When you are already half-outside the car door,
When I really do have so much work to get done tonight,
When no other cars have pulled up next to us at the lights,
When we passed that big empty park,
Near my parents’ house.
With someone wondering where we got to,
With the belt buckle still getting in the way,
With my thumb sitting in your mouth,
With some stupid music on,
Anything except ‘Architecture in
Because that would really kill…
Any adequate blood supply,
Where it might be needed.
Without any restraints on volume,
Without having ever made it past the lounge floor,
Without being sure your friend in the next room over,
Is really asleep yet,
Without walls any more solid or substantial than the thin excuses used,
For coming back here,
Far away from the many possibilities, for well-behaved cowardice.
Without me failing to notice how suddenly you were looking...
In another direction,
When I was looking ,
In your direction.
Without me letting you get away with that, one last time.
And with you,
Distractedly making that obligatorily-offered cup of tea,
That I was ostensibly-invited in for,
But that neither of us really…