here they are,
a pink epiphany
of what we could have been
as you stand curiously
reading my poems.

how funny that you see
and don’t see me
in the same moment.

i mark their papers,
her papers,
in green felt pen.
she will thank me later
with her dry wit,
her handing over of lessons,
her listening to my ideas.

you give me the check
(less than last year)
and wobble your hips,
your smile plastered on lips.
i nod,
my own lips (for once) sealed.
because everything,
the papers,
the poems on the counter,
the music you and i both love
playing quietly on the computer,
you in your room,
i in theirs,
everything is in its place,
and there are no words
that can describe my gratitude
as you pass through the door.