the sudden hitch in your slumber, your breathing and your slow turn to me as you awaken and orient.
But you do it anyways, just through a song in my head...a slow beating tempo...a casual awakening. No words, it's too early...just a bit of a drumbeat that lets me warm to the idea of flinging off sheets and facing a cold floor.
In the shower it is seductive, the morning still so raw in our eyes and our throats...the idea of a slick-wet you against me in a rain from a shower-head is invigorating...a hastening of the morning with a window that is blackened but growing orange minute by minute. I scrub the soap against me...I remember how you cleanse me, making me simply cleaner by leaning alongside me. I remember the soap smell of you.
In a car, in red taillights and cold outdoors I hear a different sound...moving, movement. I feel the gradual wakening, the wait of coffee...the lure of energy about to start the day. A calendar filled with everybody but you...I see the glimpse of you like light under a door. But I strive...I strive to feel you color my day....to take note and make an exception.
At work...the tsunami of calls and others. The masters...the bosses. I forget to think about you...but then something happens...a moment that is gorgeous as a sun blisters against a building and a view comes to mind and I am a bit alone but I wish somebody could share it with me.
Then.
Yeah.
You are missed then. You are an echo.
And then a ride home...a traffic blanket. Cloying and annoying. Edgy. Another day when your voice is absence and I stride on.
I would have a million thoughts of you but I don't hear it exactly. Rather it's memorized.
It's like if you recorded yourself being polite to people and put it in a recording. And somebody made a record of it.
l would buy that album and rip off the plastic and sit in a room and listen to it for hours.
I would smile as I nodded my head.
And maybe that evening...most likely every evening....I would replay it again and again.
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