I think of us sometimes
the way I used to
picture deBeauvoir & Satre
desks head to head
in a big room lined
with dust & ideas of others
a near dead plant in the corner
a cat needing to be let out
an ashtray needing to be emptied
another lover needing attention
only we are
in the ether
opposite ends of the country
perhaps on the opposite
ends of more than that.
you send me bits of what
you’ re reading attach bits
of what you’re seeing
makes me feel more
me and you , and
less me and nothingness
and perhaps you notice
or perhaps like Sartre
you think I’m sentimental
as you head into the wild
there are stacks of words
in both our places
plants that need watering
pets that need feeding
drunks’ glasses that need filling
partners needing attention
i don’t mind the
absence in the fullness
i look up from my desk
over at the empty space
that you often fill from the ether
and that is the perfect us for me
