Imagine I am drawing a picture of you
as you
lie awake, watching
You are partly covered by a fortunate sheet
bare feet crossed at the ankle
There is a sleepy ceiling fan stirring some air
spinning the red shoelace we use as a cord
A few doors down
a talented and depressed neighbor plays his cello
heartfelt music drifts skyward in the damp night air
I draw some of those invisible notes on your back
Imagine.