Sarah, I started another poem for you
Months ago
It had all your favorite things
A cat with a stubby face
ABBA
Details that reveal
You are seen
By me
A kind of story
If a recitation of the habitual
Were the account of a life
Which
I guess it is
I went to Detroit
To be alone
But have found you in this place too
It's less humid than Nashville
and the people don't smile at or talk to strangers
You'd love it
That other poem was trying
So hard to be everything
You wanted
I put it away because most of the time
I don't understand what you feel
What pulls at the corners of your eyes
That other poem
Wanted to answer the request
You always ask of me
This poem gets pretty much right to saying
I keep finding you
Even when
I thought the story
was somewhere else
I can't wait to have coffee tomorrow
is something Sarah & I say on an almost nightly basis. We're too old now to make coffee after noon and still fall asleep at a reasonable time, but we're always craving it. In that sense, we always have something to look forward to. And the larger idea this poem gestures toward—we always have something new to experience together.