Caught in the crosshairs of my many lives or
creating or
the sound of his knife on a wooden cutting board  [we all have used this cutting board]
and my stretch of collarbone skin yawns as the air from the window unit rocks 
in the shape of a sea [it had to be I made it be]
behind my ear.

I am curved in a half-contained way; pantry-leaning and speaking in a mute-mouthed raised eyebrow what-do-I-say-to-the-flowers kind of way, I've been here only once or twice or thrice before [always today, always yesterday]

but dinner is waiting  oh
I    will     be     here        again                      !