To An Old Friend, Now Estranged

Don’t ask me why
I always think of you
while washing dishes.
I don’t associate you
with cleaning,
or preparing food,
or enjoying a meal.

Each time, I think
I should call
or write you an email
or a postcard
but my hands
are in hot water
and I get distracted
while towel-drying,
forgetting again
until the next time.

At least
I wash a lot of dishes
so that means
I think of you often.
Sometimes I think
I should hit the road,
show up at your place

But there’s too many
waiting to be washed,
too many waking dreams,
solitary imaginings
probably better
left to the imagination.

For Corey’s prompt to the Real Toads: Persons of Interest