Tuesday, July 28, 2009


Right now, a coffee maker is obeying a timer, grinding beans in a kitchen in a house that used to be my home. It's still a home, just not mine. Presently, a woman, once the love of my life, will glide blearily into the kitchen and grope for a cup. She'll smile, thinking of a man that is not me.

And, you know, that's OK.