Poem for Tuesday

Today I did several things - although drat I haven't got my laundry up from the drying room yet, brb. RIGHT. That's done. I have now done all my priority tasks for the day, although I still have an hour at least of zoom talk tonight.

Two achievements: I wandered through Flying Tiger and did NOT buy fluffy unicorn slippers. Also, I sent Book Proposal (1) off, again, lightly revised from the version that was sent in January.

Milestone: had coffee in a café courtyard. Two, actually, one homemade-lemonade with J, and one coffee while killing time in the city before a flat viewing (which didn't happen: five prospective tenants but no one showed up to show the flat). Terrasses re-opened, even though case rates aren't going down. I'm avoiding happy hour / weekends for the latter reason, but happy with outdoor dining.

After the Threesome, They Both Take You Home
Sue Hyon Bae

even though it's so very late
and they have to report to their jobs
in a few hours, they both get in the car,
one driving, one shotgun, you in the back
like a child needing a drive to settle into sleep,
even though one could drive and the other
sleep, because they can't sleep
without each other, they'd rather drive you
across the city than be apart for half an hour,
the office buildings lit pointlessly beautiful
for nobody except you to admire their reflections
in the water, the lovers too busy talking
about that colleague they don't like,
tomorrow's dinner plans, how once
they bought peaches on a road trip and ate and ate
until they could taste it in each other's pores,
they get out of the car together to kiss you goodnight,
you who have perfected the ghost goodbye,
existing gatherings noiselessly, leaving only
a dahlia-scented perfume, your ribcage
compressing to slide through doors ajar and untouched,
yesterday you were a flash of white on a pigeon's blinking eye,
in the day few hours old you stand solid and full
of other people's love for each other
spilling over, warm leftovers.