Sometime between looking for an open nail salon,
and smelling the mums sitting on the porch, I realize
- not because I am bussling around and pretending
to be busy.
I am busy. And I am mentally engaged.
And I find
at least four other men attractive within the hour, two
of which I am probably close to being in love with-
I miss you.
And when my phone would ring at 4am,
and I'd pick it up, despite the hour, to
pretend that I wasn't tired, and tell you that
your idea was magnificent,
and that you should get
some rest.
