I felt close, at first, learning her.
I listened to her words,
fears and desires.
I reveled in her closeness,
then waned,
a little bit.

Maybe tomorrow,
after work.
Maybe tomorrow,
if I had time.

Call me.

I woke up, dressed,
worried about important trivialities until
the sun went down
and went home.

My place was suddenly lonely, my abode.
Of course it had everything,
books, music, paintings
and all a Renaissance man would desire.
I lived in heavenly loneliness,
or lonely heaviness.
A taste of intimacy was on my mind.
A salty sweet flavor of other things.

I called her.