I miss you,
yet I know you were here today,
here with the washing machine
repair-man, saying,
"right this way, sir"
and sitting in my chair
at the kitchen table.
Did you look up
from reading your newspaper
to glance at my Christmas tree,
sigh at the sparkling lights
as you sipped your soft drink?
Did you run your hand
carelessly over my pillow
with a sweet smile
playing on your lips?
Look in my medicine cabinets?
Play with my dust bunnies?
Did you act as if
you belonged here or
did you play the part
of the mysterious stranger,
the kind who only
comes around when
the G.E. men
turn on the lights?
I try to envision
your silhouette,
what chair you sat in,
whose bed you slept in,
and just how exactly
you DO eat that
proverbial bowl
of porridge.
