i write haphazardly for the imagined gaze, looking over my shoulder;
i listen to music quietly, waiting for footsteps behind me;
i read with phone in hand, waiting for it to ring;
i speak with hesitation, sure i will be interrupted soon;
i cook unsure of measurements, of how many servings are needed;
i park looking for other vehicles, one vehicle, somewhere;
i sleep carefully, arced along the absence on the other side;
i live breathlessly, fitfully, waiting for fulfillment, for you.