Ode to Frances

I’d like to give you something.
Write you a poem,
Cover you with Gingko leaves
(the crisp non-smelly ones)
Or soft music notes like rain.
I could make you a pantheon of
Garbage,
All kinds, just for your photographic
Delight.
We’ll put on our laundry clothes, big sunglasses,
Have a drink and wander off to eat.
We can dress up—banish the tears!—
In sequins,
You can wear your unitard,
And we’ll dance
Two crazy women around our toosmall room.
I love those nights we find each other
Awake or return together,
Unraveling our winter clothes,
Shedding our layers of night.
We crawl like children into our
Respective beds,
Shove the heaps of clothes to another surface.
You’ll put your glasses back on and read
Cribblecrabble from  your sheets.
Weekends we wake up roughly together and
I smile eyes still closed as I  hear you
Groping for your glasses
Find chocolate instead and
Pop it in your mouth.
I never want to see your eyes red-rimmed.
It’s true,
We’ll agree,
People suck.
I want to hear only your crazy cackling
Behind me as I sit at my desk.
Never be afraid.
Be fierce.
“It is our duty to find things to love,
to bind ourselves to this world.”
So sleep easy, wake freshly.
You told me there’s nothing for discomfort
Like a new day
A good sleep.
You are wiser than you trust sometimes.
You can trust in me.
I’d like to give you something,
Write you a poem.
I’m all out of chocolate,
Cheese is nearly eaten
(and it was yours in the first place).
My beautiful friend,
Let’s take a break,
Tea time in the afternoon,
Slip on a little David Gray,
I’ll gather the snow,
If you’ll get the syrup,
And we can just breathe,
Missing everyone we’ve ever known
Together.