josh thompson

in love on a Monday with an empty briefcase in my hand

I miss the way she purred like a kitten
when I ran my fingertips along her inner thighs

and I miss the way she recited the words of Ferlinghetti
as if they were her own

I miss the way she made me eggs
in her baby blue panties and a tight white tank-top

and I miss the way the sun would shine
into the kitchen in the morning
and I would leave for work through the front door
and unlock my car from the porch
and then I’d glance up at her window,
hoping to get a sense of what she was dreaming about

and I miss being the only person
on her mind.