Wetness licks my hand.
Perhaps my puppy—your puppy—our harrier—is seeking a playmate—
I see no wagging tail, lolling tongue, or wide puppy eyes.
It is the rain, accompanying my lithe body—I dance along the cobbled street—
I sit at my desk in the artificially-lit room, surrounded by electronic hums.
You are beside me, telling a joke—bringing tears to my eyes—
You and me—together—laughing so hard—
Your silence is palpable; your invisibility, pungent.
Another tear smudges the ink before me.
I wipe my face, trying to whisk away incrimination.
I count my blessings and tell myself I should be filled, brimming, overflowing with—