When Angie comes around,
I know it’s almost time to leave.
She crinkles her nose at me
when I’ve got fifty tabs open
in a browser, while she shimmies
behind my chair to collect
my plastic bag of paper & lemon peels.
Go home, she insists playfully with a gesture
at an invisible watch on her wrist.
She shows me pictures from her
native land with a longing I admire.
Live to work here, she says, No
way to live.
Angie sees everything, knows everything.
Quiet observer, kindest heart.
Today, I told her that I’m leaving.
No, she said. And then she said it again.
And then: I won’t see you anymore?
She sighed & kissed me on the forehead.
fog up the windows 