i am an invisible
blur
in the
morning light
of made beds
and
a kitchen
full of
coffee grinds.

you'll lose
the keys
to your bike
and
$800
and
i'll become
a
french press.

and we'll
have moments
of power
in front of the
bathroom.
puppies
understand.

tuna fish
teeth
and
two toned
metal
hair
and
sore throats
and
iPhone alarms
and
snowboard gear
on open pages
and
fear.

sitting.
knitting.

bub.

mutual
friends
and
avalanche
wake-ups.