NORTH COUNTRY

i am a feely soul sitting in solitude
on an autumn evening in my studio apartment
in the village listening to downtown train,
a song sung by tom waits. it rains gently
and there is a beautiful coffee table in the
room - we bought it together - do you remember?
now it's all mine, you have your own glass-top
somewhere in a quiet suburb in portland where
all the sprinklers click on at 5am.
rest assured, the fine wood remains, the mark
in the top exposing the white flesh
where you accidentally knifed through
an orange, it's still there. now it's where
i rest the chicken and the peas and steamy
carrots. where i iron my sleeves and collars,
where i write in my book of poetry.

sometimes, in the night, i wake randomly with
this thought:

a coffee table is nice but the scent of your blonde tangled curls
is best