You sitting there, watching
A sunflower processing its blossom.
I am, watching you. From the eyes of the porch. 
Everyday I scrawl down things that I throw 
Away tomorrow. Yesterday, 
There were: mango, headphone. 
You Said you like her. A little girl. Me
Too. We used to stand outside the Garden,
Sending cookies. The Nutcracker.
Today it’s a T-shirt. The languid plaid wetted 
By your sweat while cleansing the porch. 
I do hate the way you shake your head,
Slowly, with the Great Gig in the Sky.
Tylor told us about the Love Story. Which
Is boring. How you built up a relationship when you were young.
Now we have a garden. Our-
Own. 
I hate how you make my night skirt damp,
With your bluish morning breath.