you come to me
at the strangest times
not in my dreams or
listening to the blues on the parkway
but when i’m selecting a mango
i’ll never eat
or filling a sock drawer
there you’ll be
sitting across from me
in the provisional tealight
hair tousled
eating a bowl of homemade chili
grinning like forever
as though the thought of homemade chili
and loving a woman
had never occurred to you before