Wait.

I listen for your truck in the street outside our bedroom.
I wait for your footsteps
on the sidewalk,
the stairs,
the porch.
Wait for the crashing tiny tinkle of our front door's bells;
Wait for your keys & wallet & skull beads to impact the countertop tile;
To hear you in the toilet before bed, top hat set carefully aside.
I wait to hear moving air stop
as you walk between
the high-speed fan & our subtropic bed;
Wait for the metal-on-metal of your belt buckle releasing, of your pants hitting the floor,
The fabricskinfriction of shirt pulling over your head,
buttons & all.
I wait for your weight, trying not to wake me, as it shifts & shimmers in beside me.
I wait, anticipate your whiskertickle & soft lip-to-cheek whisper
"I love you"
before I let go & let sleep finally take me.