saw a friend
and chattered a bit, in front of skip’s bakery
in our serious fash boots,
in the crappy snow.
i never saw it coming:
the flu she gave me,
but it found me like trouble follows a fool.
saw a magazine
on a table at the chopping block salon,
and asked judy to pass it my way.
i never saw it coming, but it found me:
the perfume ad stuffed between pages like a toad in a stone,
that set me sneezing
like a snot devil on a hot tin roof.
now here you are,
leaning on my kitchen table with your elbows,
talking same as always, but something feels wrong:
i get that leaving feeling,
like I’m gonna lose something fast.
it ain’t allergy,
and it ain’t flu.
it might be me,
but i’m thinking more likely, honey, it’s you.