I first met Dean
in December in my bed.
He bit the ends of my fingertips as I traced her back.
He nipped my nose when my hands flipped her over
and he told me to stop.
I brush my teeth and I pop a pill and I apply a cream.
I set the alarm (8:30 with no snooze)
and I can only think of the movies I’ve never seen.
I white-water raft and try to climb a mountain. I cook a hot dog.
I listen to songs played by crickets and watch light shows performed by fireflies
and I can only think of the albums I’ve never heard.
I kiss a woman. I hold her in my arms after we make love.
I peek over her shoulder at her graphic design homework
and I can only think of the art museums I’ve never visited.
I read a book. It is by an author I like. I am quiet on a bench and I am invested.
I get to chapter two and decide it’s a favorite
and I can only think of the books I’ve never read.
I think of Dean.