she’s looking out the window every
night when i come back from work
she’ll not make a move
quietly stand in a corner
and barely touch the curtain
she is careful
but i can tell something in her
is playing hide-and-seek
so i park my car with loud noises
pick up my stuff
slam the door as if carelessly
then slowly head home
stomping my steps
i stop to light a cigarette
make a pretend phone call
maybe let out a guffaw
that doesn’t sound like me
i turn the key
switch on the lights and say
i’m back honey what’s for dinner
any boilerplate greeting will do
she will probably hear me say it
from behind the curtain
they bring in her night pills
and she figures i am going to do
all these things
or perhaps it is just me
wishfully thinking these routines
could crack the code
even if only for one night
spark memories of a time
without curtains and rituals
when we rode that car
with cigarettes and loud noises
