it’s funny what goes through
the mind
laying here alone,
fan blades turning in the heat
of darkness,
and you’re already gone
yet i’m smelling coffee
as if you made it in the morning
for me before you left
and i think perhaps that
i’m imagining things
until I realize it’s a skunk outside-
who would have thought
that a skunk would smell
like coffee?

i guess i miss you.