Québec
1 October 1992 (7:05 am) Manhattan, West 12th-off-Washington

rosy blood days there were giggles and dark spun hair like silks, smell coffee beans, my Moresmile next to me or close by.  know i she would be up and grinding the day to a life easier.  memory now alone, though that she is out there, moving in circles, head back, arms out and in-linked as if there were an enormous barrel between her breasts and hitched hands.  thoughts mine past remember: angular body hers, vicious wiles, sharp muscles.  all the time she, never not fresh in mind.  a light fog, but Moresmile memories play out like presents.

years ago she is up early to look for the lowercase morning.  years and a day ago i see before sleep there is just enough smell coffee for one pot more.  i take it in a small clear bag and tuck it under my pillow before Moresmile and i go to sleep.  she wakes, not knowing my little trick secret, creeps quiet to a deadbolt door and no key.  no smell coffee; no unlock to be found; trapped in with me and my sleepshow.  she shakes me slight.

“Sam?  Are you awake?  The deadbolt is locked.”

yes.  i know.

“Sam?  Did you lock the deadbolt last night?”

“What?”  through the thin show, “Jesus.  What time is it?”

“It’s seven.  Sam, we’re out of coffee.”

“What?”

“We’re out of coffee.”

“Go get some then.”

“I will, but the door is locked.”

“Unlock it then.”

“It’s the deadbolt, and I can’t find the key.”

“What’d you lock the deadbolt for?”

“I didn’t.  Where did you put the key?”

i roll over smiling the too much fun.  “It’s not locked is it?”

“Where did you put it Sam?”

“Put it?”

Moresmile leans over me, cracking, gives me a few warm pebbles to drop into the snow.  kiss kiss.  “Where did you put the key Sam?”

“Under the coffee.”

“Give it to me.”

the alarm cockledoos.  Moresmile jumps to snooze-slap.  i intercept her air and pull her back into down and pillows.  Moresmile drops a few more pebbles and finds my little bag of smell coffee and a dull key to an old door.  leaves me the old dull as spring she to to her kitchen feet.  a few breaths and i hear the grind, smell deep but not as close to my head anymore.

that morning is coffee in bed, canceled appointments, sex races with screaming laughter.  too happy with Moresmile so the deadbolt untouched until years ago minus a day, when the smell coffee was really lacking.

a thousand mornings never brought back Moresmile, but in time and unbegged for i was greeted by my Morning.  up to get got for good this time.  No turnback to to sleep.  regret is forever without love.  the light never goes out.  all my playback is projection of missed Moresmile.  that hair really tied me up.

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