Dearest,
Let me tell you about the things
that keep me alive:
Neatly folded in my closet
scented a la your laundry shop
your black bathroom slippers
the perfect pair, hypo-allergenic
on my bathroom doorway
the bill for your fridge you had repaired
which I’ve yet to claim
on your behalf
I use them only to cover my mouth
when I imagine kissing you
your heavy white comforter
It smells nothing of you now,
but has lived up to its purpose
your boxer shorts i’m wearing
too small for you
but just right for me
a christmas present from you
my proud proof of a messiah
a 2 x 2 ID picture, a mile-wide smile
pulls a corner of my lips
just enough to say- I’m ok
our bottle of hygienic alcohol
of which our hands
used to smell of after sex
a glass-full of 25 centavo coins
your heirloom to me
the day before you left
a digital clock that changes color
we set the alarm 3 hours
before your flight
143 dvd titles
all for second viewing
while you are away
and 3 little words,
in my cellphone inbox
if you still remember, dearest.
