March 19 - Untitled

I wish I did not know you.
I would not imagine us
curled together - ribs lining up
like a zipper - and warm.

I wish I did not know your house:
warm, inviting - it smells like home
on TV, of food and love, and
like the cast has not yet heard cut.
Our director yells cut an awful lot in my house.
My parents stop acting
and we go back
to hating each other.  When people
cannot see.

No one has ever yelled cut on us.
But still I wish I did not know you.
For then I would not know these things.
And I would not miss our talks.