Once I’m Done

I stare at the floor in contemplation.

I stare at the floor and wait for you.

I flip my head and stare at the ceiling.

I stare at the ceiling, still anticipating you.

I notice the white, flicking swirls on the ceiling.

I notice the white, flicking swirls of the ceiling with

face-shoved-in-couch boredom: waiting for you.

The whipped swirls remind me of frosting.

Frosting makes me think of cake, and a little less of you.

So I drift down the stairs and mix sugar and flour.

I lick dusty flour from my nose, passing time as I wait for the oven

…and maybe you.

I sway barefoot on the cool kitchen floor.

Nothing better to do than dance while I wait for you.

The music I waltz to picks a guitar.

I learn a few chords- something you never taught me to do.

My cat puffs her tail in my face as I try to strum.

My cat puffs her tail everyday, 

everyday just the same as I wait for you.

Maybe I should get another cat? Or a different animal?

Perhaps a rabbit while I wait for you?

Rabbits are so silent and simple 

without meows or moralities to discuss:

Meanwhile, I write novellas waiting for you.

Some man likes my compositions.

I get my first check; you’ll be surprised- 

that is, once I’m done waiting for you.

The money buys me a sunlit countryside dwelling.

I get a few more of those silent rabbits I speak for,

as well as some wobbly ducks, funny chickens, and a tree with a swing.

They keep me happy while I wait for you.

Now everyday is a Saturday morning.

One Saturday morning I wake up and pick my oranges.

I smell the orange, and creation senses me.

I look at my funny ducks, and my ducks look at me.

The fields of wild grass rustle behind my home,

and I’m content to stretch out in them quietly.

I spent so long waiting for you

that I made a better life without you.

 

Photo credits: Pixabay