the storm is, in fact, coming

there's thunder rumbling and grey day outside my windowpanes and drops of rain on the glass and laundry humming and lamps lit in the daytime. tea, oatmeal, the sound of birds, and thoughts of you. as I sit and write up ed's show from thursday, but I wanted to stop by before these things left me:

I woke up this morning thinking of you
and it's been forever
since I woke up thinking about anything
but myself and how I was going to handle
things
I've seen you exactly eleven times now
and neither of us seem to know how to speak,
or even smile at each other for that matter.

I heard voices this morning too -
when I'd wake up with my parents in the kitchen
I'd hear their voices
muffled through the doors and walls and
things that hung on and over them
and if I listened, I'd wake up
but sometimes I'd stay in the in-between
if I didn't hear the words
drifting around like part of the dreams
about throwing away old tomatoes
and other things that escape me now.

this morning, then
you're but a stranger still
and the voices were simply
neighbors upstairs
discussing the television shows
from the night before
over coffee and eggs.

~vvb