blueboyluca:In the morning she makes the teaShe passes me a glucosamine tabletI pace the perimeter;
blueboyluca:In the morning she makes the teaShe passes me a glucosamine tabletI pace the perimeter; inhale—dirt smell, pigeon smell, concrete, sap, car exhaust,decay passing by on the breezeShe sits at the tableI go back to sleep, lightlyAlert for the sounds out the windowI shout at the doorbell, I shout at the phoneShe sometimes cries at the TVWe are in a box togetherWe hold on to our ritualsSometimes I feel something in the gestures and the scent of polyester webbingThe click of the doorSome old story rises in my guttells me to seek,tells me to findI touch my nose to her skin to better absorb itI’ll never let it go -- source link