The Way She Left

she left to work at 9 on her thesis in the grad. library. I got
up seconds before she was gone & staggered toward her seated
in the kitchen studying all sorts of strange diagrams (statistics
maybe, or numerical knowledge of social psychologists) & I
squeezed her shoulder in my hand, she wrapped an arm around my
naked waist & we both said good morning, she smiled like she
often does before she leaves me alone with my poems & books, coffee,
pot & visions. she was gone. I read short translations of
breton in bed, ate a deviled egg, watched dick van dyke when breton
became too clear & when old van dyke got into a mess I went back
to breton. I showered singing beatle songs about sadness & as I
was drying off I went into one of my sneezing fits that lasted
for an hour it seemed (I’m still sniffling) & then read some of
the poems I wrote yesterday, figured, well, shit’s shit & it’s a
part of living so get with it today. instead I walked out into
the wind to buy cigarettes. got back, drank coffee & smoked
2 ciga