We sit on the couch, TV on
I’m drinking Mexican beer
You’re reading historical romance
I see you in the floor
Pouring strong cider into cheap glasses
Wearing a T-shirt and socks
And nothing else.
I see you in the dark
Your face to the wall.
Sucking tears and snot back inside
Because you’ll be damned if you’ll let me see.
I see you in the photographs
All teeth and eyes and music
Captured blissfully unaware
But you don’t like pictures to be taken anymore.
You interrupt my show to ask for a blanket
When you have two perfectly good feet
But I say of course and fetch one
Because I see you.
BIO: Gregg Winkler is a writer from a small town in Oklahoma. He received a Master’s Degree in Composition and Rhetoric in 2004, which he uses to hide an unsightly stain on his bedroom wall. He has been published many times online and in print, in such places as The Tule Review, The Grasslimb Journal, and A Fly in Amber.