ten fingers at a keyboard and

nine reasons not to write you
late at night on the
seventh day you’re gone.
six daydreams in
five minutes,
four more lines of
three. e cummings

… too cheesy.
one more thing when
two pages later we’re still
three hours apart:
“for if you’re young,
whatever life you wear
will become you”
— page fifty-six
seven stanzas until you’re home and
eight ways i want you
nine ways i in—
tend to have you
and sometimes…
you catch me off guard sometimes.