While I appreciate the urgency with which
You feel the need to snuggle into my elbow,
Desperate to squeeze a little more love
I can’t help but notice the minor annoyance
You’re in my way.
I’m trying to do important things,
Like write poetry.
Really important, seriously artistic
Poetry of the soul.
I’m writing about trying
With a puppy nestled at my hip,
His head resting on my thigh.
And as you snore softly,
Smelling indelicately like those corn chips
In the shape of little bugles,
I would fit on my fingertips
When I was a kid (I’d probably still do it now),
I wish we could stay like this
I know our forever will be short,
And a day will come
I’ll wish empty wishes
that you’d be inconveniencing me still,
So I don’t really mind,
In my way.