subtly

the way I know
how the light peeks through my skylights at exactly 12:37pm
casting a shadow at a thirty-five degree angle
from my bamboo tree

how the mailman passes by the porch everyday at three
in the afternoon, with a standard deviation of
plus-minus twenty-six minutes

how my body fits into yours like
the final piece of a puzzle that was lost behind the crevice
of the couch we used to make love on.

the way I know
how lattes taste when they are made with oat milk—
75 cents more delicious, to be exact

how aisle seven carries both painkillers
and feminine products
rarely used separately

how to catch a gaze from across the bar,
look up, then down…one, two, three…up again. coy.

the way I know
how it feels to be five minutes into a first date
or five years with your childhood love

how an irresolute chord
conveys the complexities of a life cut short;
the premonition of tomorrow

how it feels to finish off a carton of eggs
or to be hungover at church
or to shave your legs exactly once per year.

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