“Happy Anniversary, baby
got you on my mind,”
I am thinking as I watch
you get into the car,
two sweaters and a denim jacket
crumpled in the back seat,
three big books smashed
on the floor behind
the driver’s seat.
I am always surveying you,
smoothing your eyebrows,
tucking in your shirt,
re-arranging your cap.
Today you have left home
in a new shirt – unironed.
I forced myself
to let you go that way.
It was something I felt
I had to do.
But don’t get any ideas
that I am giving up
any claim I have to
you as my territory,
my life.