i knew he would still live in the same place
an apartment that inhabits him
as much as he inhabits it
the wood framing is made of his bones

crystal door knob
a part of his hand
tall windows
open his eyes in the morning

hand cranked ringing doorbell
and a call on the phone
asking him to come down the stairs
out of thin air

he agreed
his hanging up click
became descending footsteps

he opened his door to long ago me

i handed over the painting he asked for
nearly a year before
monochromatic
cincinnati in winter
with summer blues
saying a promise was a promise

his eyes became
sweet
soft
the way they used to be
regarding me

he said

you must be cold

i told him i had parked in a snow bank
i needed to go grab coffee

i couldn’t stay
because we never last that long

but the smile on his face as we turned away

restored my faith

in the possibility of spring