if you think about things
the way you talk about them
when you say i own a lake
when you call me the queen of bridge mills
do you see it too?
when you first came over
to my house
my
for a too-green-for-you-perhaps-salad dinner
you said, look at your lake
this is your lake
i liked the idea
but i didn't quite believe
it was mine
another day, walking toward yours
look! what a nice lake. it's yours.
you were tossing pouring glopping appreciation into my crossed arms
when i walked back
that night
after walking you just past
woodie's turn in
where we held each other so close one day, many months ago,
i looked at the apartment and house lights
reflected on the lake
and felt it mine
today
as i walked to non-existent work
at 8:18 a.m.
says my phone clock
i looked rightward
over my lake
come ocean
fog
had receded buildings
an ocean
my ocean
i thought
and imagined you next to me
