selfie #13: past perfect

this is the way we live now:        fingers aching

hair drawn back with barrettes        while you drive

I sleep         not wanting         to take too much in

indifferent years accumulate         like old chairs

in new upholstery        and the faces of everyone

we used to know        we stayed out late and then

on the floor you took me apart         as a way

of remembering         that summer in all its

bright fury        past days of simple transactions       

a single shelf in the refrigerator         single door with

single lock        when the phone bill came        you paid

your share        in those days we called it long distance