Sometimes, I have these glimpses
into the future,
where we’re sitting at the kitchen
table we assembled ourselves on
a Saturday, midday,
not even saying a word to each
other,
just eating breakfast
or doing the morning crossword
puzzle in the local paper.
Often times, it’s more complex
than that.
We’re taking the subway downtown
to see a band you told me about,
our fingers laced together,
facing upward in the space between us.
(You’re grinning from ear to ear).
Other times, we’re in our apartment,
sprawled out on the floor
after a fake argument,
laughing until our sides ache,
always
always
genuine smiles.

And just to be perfectly clear
about this:
You are my home now.