Both hands on the cupboard handles,
a faint reflection of an O in the gloss surface
of the cupboard doors,
I pull the doors open,
Every scene that could play out in here,
with that wall with that wallpaper
The glimpses of that pattern when this way,
or the afterimage when that way,
in the periphery, in the memory
The geometry layering over
the other patterns that would appear.
The typesetting drawer is upright
and a little curio in each of its boxes.
There are three little pink dolls,
just the upper body, arms stiff and forward.
Every box is a scene, an adventure.
There is a seated wooden frog,
a crystal stopper, a pink badge with Divine,
a parrot on its side, a wooden mouse,
a knitted chick.
Each of these are a different memory.
Drinking tea from a candy pink mug with I heart NY.
Wish you were here with the other cup, candy blue.
The wooden floorboards, yellow
and the light from the window
and the shadow of the furniture
I could watch you lying in that light and shadow
on that floor
And you would feel the warmth from the sun
through the windowpane
The glass lampshade, an orange globe.
At night it would be our little sun on the table -
Sometimes an object in the scene,
sometimes an orange light on your face
as you are saying something.
There was a new year’s eve party in here once
and the room was full. Think of all the ways
of entering the scene and the positions to take up in the room.
The jokes that could be made! The possibilities!
Do you like this song?
We could be dancing to it somewhere
Or singing it loud in the street
if you really like it, if you know the words.
I imagine holding both your hands
and you holding both my hands.