ArtFlow

You texted at 2pm, said maybe later,
and later bloomed into a whole season.
I rearranged the books by color, not title.
I learned the names of three clouds.
The cat sat in the sunny square on the floor
as if warmth were something you could own.
I made coffee twice and drank it cold both times,
thinking of nothing, which is thinking of you.
Outside, someone laughed at something private.
A pigeon decided, then undecided.
The afternoon went soft around the edges
the way fruit does when it's almost ready.
By evening I had forgotten what I was waiting for-
only that the window kept the light a little longer
than seemed strictly necessary.