I wring your three brief emails for their last milky drops
and humbly acknowledge
that even though I’ve read two and a half books by
Pema Chödrön
and sometimes meditate
and recently qualified
of all things
as a breathwork coach,
I am in no way enlightened,
unattached,
or even especially mindful.

A breathwork coach. We’d have some fun with that one
over nachos
at Nelson’s
it’s changed you know
you have to book
and if you can’t make it
they keep your deposit.

But we don’t talk about this stuff again yet.
Cos we’re going slowly.
I mean, you are going slowly.
I’m literally just hanging out at a safe distance like a street dog waiting for scraps.

When I’m done licking the bowl
I pause
to think of all the things I could do to regulate my nervous system
like breathwork
or meditation
or reading.

I shove myself into the day. There’s a tabletop sale
for PAWS, where I got Jammy, do you remember
our cat?
I found a tailcoat that fits me like a magician’s glove
but who can I tell
if not you.
You know, everything that happens,
in my head I tell you about it.
So it’s weird for me
to realise, over and over
that you don’t actually know
I’ve sold my business
I’m buying a house
I’ve made a new friend
I have new clothes
I’m going out tonight
I’m feeling sexy
I miss you.