I remember sex. From some other life
some other me much prettier, or at least
less old. What I'm not sure about
is whether the spongy ankles, belly fat
and flatulence came first--or my flaccid indifference.
So the offer arriving to my smartphone last night
spiked my adrenalin like an epi pen straight
to the heart.

On reflection, a lost night's sleep is a small thing, really.
Funny how much it can disable a person.
And I'm honored, I really am!
But sleeping alone has its comforts
and the bed has learned to cushion
my dreams in solitude.



I am waiting.
Hours after you say,
"I'm on my way,"
you are still not here.
Rain in tight strings
fingers the window;
a private harmony,
the sad songs
you are always playing.


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