You told me to name a day, you’d come cook me dinner.

A sort of tableau for my roommates.

Playing house but we met on an application where you liked

my remark about falling in love with people who are ‘weird.’

My dad came to visit and his cousin drove over from New Jersey to pick us up.

In the Hoboken townhouse his wife remembers under Time Cafe

her relationship with Jeff Buckley.

Leaning forward, fists clenched beneath my thighs

she mimes his dance into the river.

Hands above her head in a tangoed flamboyance I am still.

He went in fully clothed and singing.

I think I’d like to see the ocean again. It's been so long.

I wouldn’t mind driving you there, unloading boards

from the edge of the parking lot where sand spills

over concrete Ocean Beach is where we loved the hardest.

I’d like to watch you return from the edge of my blanket again. (I’d bring a book each time but

could never really muster up the courage to move my eyes from the water)

I should have read and trusted winter surf That's when it was best.

Trusted you’d return all wrinkly and cold neoprene.