CHRISTOPHER MCKITTERICK

thinking of you everywhere


I wake up and look around the bedroom at objects
you've left behind for me:
 your hair wrap
 parts of your skirt
 books
 a camera
 the glass ring on my finger
  - artifacts of our lovemaking -
and I think of you.

I ride my bike through the cool thick morning air
and sunshine and Lawrence roads
I look down at the gas tank and gauges
I feel the vacuum at my back
and I think of you.

Standing at work running a noisy machine
suddenly the rhythm makes me think of you.

I see my computer sitting in email mode
and I must write you.
Here I am. There you are.
I want you.

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