I Like the Sound of That

Sitting here, in the same chair I have sat in all year
I am barefoot again, like I was when I first came to you.
It is warm enough now to not wear anything, if I wanted.
I like this corner of the room the best.
There is a window onto our street
the cat likes to sit on the ledges and hurl his eyes at the pigeons.
We eat breakfast here in this corner every day,
after we struggle out of the knot our limbs tie—we sleep so close together.
It is like nothing else, how little space we occupy in our big bed.
It is how I sleep, how I've tried to sleep for years.
I have been thinking about it all year in this chair
in this corner
of our apartment.
Our apartment.
I like the sound of that.