I think of you most while I stand at the counter
and turn knotted cloves of garlic
into soft feathered piles
my knife pinched between finger and thumb
as instructed

When whiskey tries to claw its way
back up my throat
and I stamp my foot no
barring its path and dooming myself later
to be reminded of the tooth
you swore was growing in your cheek
while I wrap myself around some poor
unsuspecting trash can

When I drive across the bridge with the windows down
between your old world and mine
and I catch a glimpse of the night
I let go of your shoulders
and you held us steady
while I tried to hold the sky above our heads
with my arms spread wide

I’m trying to outrun the feeling 
of walking around with the letters I can’t send 
Maybe it’s just the season 
the bus exhaust blown in my face
the night air soaking my sheets
Whatever helps me resist simplicity of
I miss you and it’s not fair to tell you

But I miss you, and it’s not fair to tell you
So I’ll write again soon

Love always,