84. Your bare feet under the table

often 

my days go by

between

flashbacks

from undeveloped

film strips

of your

unaware look

in sephia

taken from

every possible

angle

from which

I have adored

you

and

seemingly 

unlived

yet familiar

scenarios

that I suspect

are from

some

distant future

or

scattered

debris

from our past

in all

of them

there's you

always

lovely

as can be

maybe

in a latent form

of life

or

in that

imaginarium

my mind has created

as a decoy

to divert me

from the fact

that

I've been

missing you

so much

off the record

I have a

recurrent

image of us

having brunch

under a pergola

in our backyard 

we're having

ceviche and

grilled corn 

tortillas

the flavors 

and crispness

feel so real

I keep

smiling

watching 

you feast

until

you stop and 

ask me

what?

with your

mouth full

I say 

oh it's nothing

Milady

you 

smile back

tenderly

and 

carry on

but

what you

don't know

is that

I have

written 

and

dreamt

about us

having

this meal

for

many

long

years

now 

feeling almost

like a burden

for you

along the way

and still

here 

you are

now