I wake sore and empty in my absent roommate’s bed
And watch you tug jeans over tired hips,
And run your belt through its loops,
And lace your boots to face November chill.

Retrieving a battered bomber jacket from under the bed
You goodbye me with cursory words
And the dormroom door snaps shut.

I roll my face back into the warm depths of the pillow and wonder
Why you bother, and if
I want to know why.

You’re walking now
To your car wedged in amongst many like it:
Kept running in spite of your best efforts,
And soon you’ll roll off into the sunrise-
Just another low whine to mix with the birds chattering from the trees
And the pop album wailing down the hall.

I am warmed by the comforter gathered into an illusion of safety around my toes
And my hungover eyes shielded from the blinding dawn by drawn blinds.
As I will sleep to wash over my tired mind I remember something you said last night
About a marquis and philosopher and what he thought of human desire.
They locked him up,
You said,
So he couldn’t hurt anyone,
You laughed.

In the dark there are shadows surrounding you,
Neither Platonic nor ideal,
Which sweat cannot wash away.

I remember when I met you,
And how the Moon fed my romantic fantasies
And the rough rub of the Earth as you fed your own.
And my soiled skirt and bruised limbs,
Which later I couldn’t explain away,
Even to myself.