up late

I like your head & its hair:
how it's brown, long
black & clipped
rusty & wiry 
past your shoulders & tied back

I like that cap you wear:
it's red & knit
grey & billed
furred with flaps

I think about your hands:
rough & lined
wide, small
clasping mine

I'd like to see you look:
at a half moon
for something in a drawer
squinting 

I feel your face near mine:
it's talking junk
it's sipping a cup
it's near mine.

because it rained today

and I wondered what we would do together on a rainy day.

you would take a picture of me and keep it to yourself, 

like the collection of thoughts I’ve gathered and kept about you.

thoughts imagined, built & stacked. 

I think I could play a song I was embarrassed to like with you around. 
If you hated it, you’d let me know 
(with a groan) 
but you’d let it play 
(because you like it too).

I think I could get you to stay in bed past 9, a few times. Maybe skip a morning cup. 

You’d be reading, me too, but I’d be looking over at you
guilty glances—in the spaces when you weren’t doing to same. 
until our looking lined up
with a grin, ‘jinx’. 
grin jinx--my cheeks would always go rosy at that. 

I laugh & scowl at the same time,
you’d know why. 

it’s easy for me to close my eyes—but I don't think I could help keeping them open 

to look at you leaning over a counter, 

to look at you across the room, 

to look at you sipping a cup, 

to look at you through the window walking away,

to look at you from the car pumping gas, 

to look at you when you’re not there. 

and it's supposed to rain tomorrow too.