We share a bed, a bathroom, a garage,
checking and savings accounts, a mortgage,
three credit cards, a car/ car payment, a last name,
vacation plans, retirement ambitions,
a child and yet, near midnight, as you slip
a pair of my boxers up your thighs
you ask if you can wear them to walk our dog.
Next I hear the spring on the back porch door
swing closed and an aluminum slam shutter
through the night. I picture you out there:
my underwear rolled at the waistband; arms
crossed against the cold; squinting after
our black cocker spaniel who ducks into
the shadow of the juniper’s shoulder
as stars compete for your attention.
Stars need other stars to form constellations.
They almost can’t be seen individually,
are better perceived with eyes slightly blurred
or in peripheral vision where brighter
stars supply context to the dimmer stars,
allowing them to claim some brightness
for their own, forgiving them for being alone.