Tuesday, June 25, 2013

This is Really Nothing

Kate I'm always
looking for you 
in all 
the wrong places—always 

mistaking hastas for 

hasty pictures with my 
phone of daffy 
pairs of mallards—singing Stormy

Weather to 
myself in foreign 
accents—always misspelling hello

on purpose and never 
lunch on time.

But I seriously don't know
what that has 
to do with anything—just like I don't

know what I'd 
do if I found you, other than 
tell you all this

at the end of the day
to make you smile

—just to make 
you laugh—just

before your pretty 
head slams 

down hard on a red
pillow and I lose you again.