Still

The good news:

my phone battery lasts longer

without your messages.

I’ve stopped cringing

when I meet someone else

who shares your name.

I am losing nothing over you.

Still, I find myself craving

our arguments over Teslas

and space and the economy

failing all of us.

So I speak to frogs.

The housefly. The TV’s static.

And this almost helps.

But then the sun sets

and I am left unsure

of how to pray.

But time goes, as it does,

and I start to like dog days--

how the heat suffocates

my thoughts and leaves me present.

Still, I find myself wanting

to tell you what I ate for dinner.