Waiting for Homely

As I sit in the north
while the spring cleaning
of Autumn takes place
with a massive attack
of water drops

I see your freshly washed boyish hair
glistening off the floodlights outside
in my mind.

& it's too quiet.

I can still vaguely hear
your random fits of
closed soft palate tuba notes
playing out of pitch
& vibrating against my face in bed...
I can still vaguely feel your skin
through the sheets as that music is played,
through the vacant space.

Vacation only makes me
want to time travel back
& wake up to your softer,
tone deaf, late morning voice alarm,
discomforting my musical ear
while tranquilizing my body & emotions.

I'm ready to go return.

All it took was two separate days & nights,
which means I've only been home
twice in my life.