tomorrow

we will wake up and paint our toenails and walk down the street sipping ice tea from glasses we'll bring from home. we'll stop to stroke every dog. we'll buy crusty bread, soft cheese and red wine and find a sunny spot on the grass. we'll sit and laugh and then we'll say goodbye.

i'll pull out my book and lie on my belly reading it in the sun. i'll fall asleep on an open page. i'll drool and wrinkle the middle of the page. when i sell the book, a 15 year old girl will buy it the following week. when she gets to the page with the wrinkled interior she'll wonder what i spillled.

i'll climb the trees and race along the rooftops chasing the last sunny patches before the sun sets in the west. i'll sprint over the blue roof of your house, but i'll have forgotten you by then. i won't jump extra hard and try to make your house crumble. i won't fly down the chimney. i won't ring your doorbell to tell you that since you left i have been lonely.