Funny how the things that bothered
are the things I miss
jumbled pj’s in the closet
toothpaste landscape in the sink
feather tickle that raised goosebumps
honed to quills that poke the heart
plastic album pages
give off body heat
you and me with mahi-mahi
line-caught on a Kona sail,
kimono costumed on a Halloween
two swordless smiling Samurai
I want another chance
to whisper stand up straight
another opportunity to grin
when balled up paper misses trash
habits suffered with a sigh
come streaming back on eyelid screens
light blue sweater with the hole
how you called a drawer a draw
courtesy of Boston twang
recollections piled like leaves
fill my throat with loam
each time I swallow
I want you back, the warts and all
warts so I’ll be sure it’s your eyes draping at the edges
your skin brined in summer waves
your lips hot with bedsheet kisses
your freckled constellation across dimpled cheeks
your cowlick, no one’s hair can grow the same
Paula Rudnick is a former television writer and producer who has worked the past 30 years as a volunteer for nonprofit organizations.
