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

unannounced.

But there’s too many

dishes

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