i hope your shoes fit,
because i can't afford to buy you new ones.
I hope your trees swell with 8 recommended glasses of water
while their mouths are closed
before you wake up.
i hope you're semi-surprised
at what you find
growing on your soft side--
the star magnolias blooming all early
and me wearing cut offs,
resting in the vinca.
and you love me the same, don't you?
the same as the routine everyday 12pm test siren
or the vacuum cleaning at eleven,
the predicted sunrise to the second
and my eyelids, turned thin blankets,
thinking of you.
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