Where Are You?

The sheets ruffled
as two legs shuffled

at the bottom of the bed.
She turned her face
to that middle place
where one would likely find a head.
Dead tired,
she asked,  
"Where are you?"
as she rose to toast some bread.
She lit a half-smoked cigarette
that was on the window's chipping ledge.
She breathed the air of mystery
with sun-highlighted dreads.
The toaster popped
and the sound had knocked
the silence
that was shed.
She wondered
what the chances were
she'd find someone again...

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