Resistance is Futile

Everybody’s dead here
At the house I grew up in.
Well almost; the daughter
Has nearly caught up. I dared
Not to miss you and
Look at the results.
Today the thermometer won’t rise
Above freezing and I’m digging
Through your ugly colonial
Bureau for that old black one-piece,
To put on for the backyard.
How long will it take
To stop my heart, cease
The little crystalline puffs
From rising above
My blue lips? Out here
By the birdbath, the struggle
To be something other
Than dutiful is coming
To an end. In heaven
All will be as it should be;
I will jester on my cloud
Between the two of you;
Little clown; master distracter;
I know my place and I’m back
In it. Reclining flat
On a ratty towel I wait
To pick up where we left
Off; forgive, forgive
My foray away,
This ill-starred stretch
Toward the gears.
I will not switch, I’m
At your disposal,
No more dancing
For myself
In front of the mirror.
Did you miss me?
Did you miss me?
Oh god, dear god.
It’s good to be
Back home.