untitled

there is something more, here -

more than the other half of the bed,

than the space next to me on the sofa

at the party I feel uncomfortable at,

bigger than the frying pan

being used to make only

one portion of pancakes

the second space in the toothbrush holder,

room on the bench by the river,

just instances,

of something

more.

heavier than the pile of records

bought with you in mind,

taller than the shelves

to hold all our poetry.

there is something more, here -

and for now, I sit with it

like these mountains

waiting out the weather

dreaming during the day,

because I never do at night