If we weren’t together
I wouldn’t mind leasing the house
next door or across the field—
I would observe your windows, your cycle
of lights and slight movement of curtains
or blinds, watch you step out for the mail;
I’d be there to suggest a quick
walk around the block.
I might ring your doorbell, ask for a recipe—
you’d ask me in, turn to the cupboard
and I’d swipe a gumdrop from your jar,
maybe lift any book laying around,
read it on your stoop.
We live our lives, thinking smugly
how well we know each other, how long
we’ve heard our best laughs, our worst cries,
a quick tea, a massage, when a see you later
meant I will see you later and sometimes
maybe we’d seem kind of hostile but we knew
it wouldn’t last—
but if we weren’t together
I wouldn’t mind leasing the house
next door just to be close to you
even if I wouldn’t know you
as well as I think I do now.
I've read this maybe 20 times since you posted it.
At first I skimmed it. Twice.
Then read again and again at various speeds and attention when I checked in.
Half of the times, I read it out loud.
Today I read it...again. On a perfectly beautiful, sunny day...before the georgeous sun and blue skies get shrouded by dark clouds and enormous rains...for the next week...
