I awoke, pissed, the activity, not the feeling, took a shower, got dressed, made coffee, drank the coffee, fed the dog, the fish, the cat, watered the plants, left a note for the cleaning people, heard a story on NPR that made me think of you, began to write a poem about the us we were, before we became the non-us, still it felt good to think of you, your smile, shoes, the way you opened your eyes after they were closed in the aftermath of our coupling, when we were a couple, it turned me on, I went back to the bedroom, got undressed, jerked-off, took a shower, got dressed, made coffee, drank the coffee, fed the dog, the fish, the cat, and was watering the plants when I remembered I had done it all before, about about 1, 317 times, when we were together. You gone. I forgot that detail.