As I lie next to you on the bed,
Parallel bodies intersecting the creases in the naked white sheets,
I notice that your socks do not match today
And your shirt is Tuesday’s,
But that’s all right
Because my heart is lagging at least a month behind
And my head may never catch up.
I don’t think I’ll ever want to kiss you
Or that I’ll ever desire what lies underneath yesterday’s wrinkled garments,
But perhaps it would be all right
To lie next to you in the ground someday,
Parallel bodies, trapped in the past,
Because at least in the face of the great bright unknown
You would be there to reach over
And awkwardly clasp my palm in your sweating hand.
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