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His hellos are water. In hearing them I drink my need.

The first sound of morning. No, not a bird, not even the rustle of my own sheets.

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So distinct even if he never said it again, I’ll hear it for another fifteen years. My ears arrested to the sound.

Does he know that the day has only begun when he says it? That it didn’t matter if the sun came up, the light came in or the sound of every car engine banged at my front door.

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The time I waste sleeping

Is given back with the timbre of this greeting.

I don’t want to hear anything else! Turn it all off! No alarms, No coffee pots, No fans, No fucking tv! Just…

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I keep it to myself, every morning I steal it all.

Mine, mine, mine. I know it is.

I breathe it in and curse my exhale for releasing any bit of it.

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So concentrated I taste it on every part of my tongue.

I let it burn through my insides and stain all of my bones.

Just for me.

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It makes me evil, because I want to be envied.

Without asking, I get to have it.

He willingly gives me this. . .

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I love it so much I don’t answer it. I let it ring into the air,

I couldn’t ever disturb its resonance.

Let me have it again, again and again.

Like new and rich founded oil, let it rain on me and blacken my skin.

Again! Again! Again!

Divinity, ignorance, intoxication, pure stupid surrender!

Again.

Again…

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