a year

It's a question of our relationship to struggle.

I say, the site of liberation,
while you say just the means.

and while I struggle to wake and greet you,

two mornings this week you got out of bed so early,
just because you were too excited to start the day.

It's been a world since the last time I said this:

Not I love you, but obviously we already love each other.

Not I'll be with you, but I'd say we already made that choice.

two days that warm week I bumped in to you,

in union square, in your cut off shorts.

on first avenue, in sweltering heat.

I had two big bags,

but you had a roll of mylar on your shoulder that made mine look small.

this was always about work, but 

work that's about joy.

the way I close the door now and huff.
and you chuckle like you smiled on first avenue
and wait on the couch as the sun rises
for me to get up.