Thursday, July 28, 2005


I turn the handle and wait
as the water fills my cup.

It's early morning-- most probably you
are asleep. I hear the birds wake
with their chirps, their songs. The sky

is just beginning to turn the color of twilight.

Does it matter to me
if someone else is in your bed with his
arms wrapped around you
the way mine would?

I ponder that as my glass fills, as
I look through the window up
at the sky...

The clouds are big and gray, so it looks
like rain and suddenly,

it's not water I want.

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