Sitting in the car, rain starts to pour on the sunroof, 

on off again until I'm back home. 

I turned my bed to face in the direction of the 3pm sunbeams, 

the only thing I love about February. 

I can lay in them with my whole body. 

I can put a whole person next to me if I bother to call one. 

Both of us in the sunbeam. I can drive to the ocean right now, 

we can drive to the ocean if I bother to call and ask, 

Do you want to watch the waves? Do you want to talk about
each other? Do you want to talk about the ocean?

We are being happy. We aren’t playing roles. 

This isn’t the future.

I don’t write about a home I don’t own, 

with a grown up lover and grown up strange-friends. 

My bed faces Northwest. The sun falls right on my face, 

and when it doesn’t, the rain does.

When it doesn’t, I call someone. I do bother. 

We all bother with each other. There is a lot of love, a lot of love, 

and we kiss and make each other meals. 

We aren’t playing faux-lovers to see what it’s like. 

We are being happy. We are being happy, and the waves are very big today.