home again

Funny how easily you become natural to me again, first after six years and now after ten -- I find it hard to remember boundaries, where my space is supposed to end and yours is supposed to begin, I have to remember that I’m not supposed to touch you this time around

and this time around I remember that we’ve done this twice before, and if there’s a reason that we keep becoming friends then there’s also a reason that we keep breaking up again

and I don’t want to be your girlfriend this time. Not even if it were easy, if there were no long distances or wives

I want you to be my pretend boyfriend

I want to stay in Chicago this summer and take the train downtown every day, photograph the museums, and then come back to your apartment and sit in front of the fan, knitting and watching you paint.

I’ve forgotten how much I like watching you paint.

I want to sit on the porch at night drinking with your friends. I want to touch you. I want you to kiss my hair. I want to lean against you on the train. I know I’d be trading one frustration for another: instead of not touching you and wishing I could, I would touch you and wish for more, but that’s a trade I’d be happy to make. It’s the kind of wishing I wish I had.