Done Day

I

A friend of mine,
an attractive man, with a girlfriend,
falls asleep in my bed.
Falls asleep with his hat on.
Neither of us notice
that the other is there,
asleep in only t-shirts,
with the hot window open.

In the morning, I wake up
to his alarm. He's still here.
We wave goodbye
to each other, and I'm not sure
we even speak.

I notice the sun
on his cheek.

I make coffee.
It's my only option.
I resent the brick wall
outside my window.
I get undressed
and back in bed.
I'm in search
of Duende.

II

I cannot find it.

I put on a dress
when an ex-lover calls,
wanting my company, always,
wanting it his way. I love
being around him,
so I say no, for the first time
in a long time. I'm trying
the best that I can.
I'm mean.

I say, "I have a life,"
and feel like a liar.

I go outside. I sit
on my stoop. I'm just trying
to breathe. To inhale,
trying so hard, oh Lorca.
I inhale, inhale. Empty, still.
My lungs suck in
as a valley, in,
in as a void.

I inhale, inhale,
filling my body
with air.
The world blows
and blows, so blue
with breath, with wind,
with nothing.
My dress whirls.

I am swollen
with the sorrow
of letting him go.