There’s little difference between two people in love
who share the same axis, who are always
around and between each other, without speaking.
Saying I miss you is like being in two places at once.
Non-unique, antisymmetric as a pair of fermions
in the morning their love is breakfast
spinning into the day on the cold-footed tile
from table to fridge, couch to countertop.
Wave functions like emptied egg cartons
yolk sitting fat as the sun upon your toast.
The standing wave of coffee at eight forty-five.
How fecund the weightless light through the blinds.
As you draw closer by the end of day
with bare, chilly legs interlocking
can you sense the valence of comfort
that behaves as if time were not watching?
R. Charboneau
