Get out of bed to write her:
"You're a better sleep partner
than I gave you credit for this morning, this one
takes over the whole damn mattress."
Crinkle up the paper 'cause I know
she won't take it the way that I mean it.
Girls never do, and women only rarely.
I amend my words
sometimes:
"Hope you got there safely. Call if you need anything."
But to think she foolishly called me a genius
and her mom said to print me...
It's a shame that she was one that never really happened.
Not one that got away, exactly. We just never tried.
Then again, it's good to have a few of those
to keep in sterile corners of the mind
and remember when times are trying
and you're ready to swear off the whole lot of them
without making any exceptions.
No, not all deathbed What-If's will be demoralizing;
some will be bittersweet at worst, and we should
all be able to settle for that.
I crawl back into bed, cursing this one in my head
for stealing all the blanket in my absence.
Shivering from the ceiling fan whose white noise
I can't sleep without, even during this frigid winter
I close my eyes and try to doze off to cushioned thoughts
of what it could be like if I only had the heart
to let another good one
sink saving this ship.
"Captains worth their brass make sure they go do down alone,"
I tell that silly dream
and the gods let me sleep in peace for it.
Currently reading:
"Wait Until Spring, Bandini" by John Fante.
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