in regards to a musician

i once loved a boy

who lived on Wilson avenue

i could never get there fast enough

but always in my car, before i lock the doors

i sit very still and close my eyes a moment,

as if love needs preparation.

then covertly i look in his open living room window

and see him holding his guitar like an old friend

with his sleepy hair and that cat who is jealous of the

attention he gives me.

and i am looking at a person that i know in such detail,

and yet

not at all.

we hug big after i ring the doorbell

and i do not have the heart to say

how empty it feels.