*

*

With her, I don’t have to talk.

She doesn’t mind if I

curl up on her couch

with my notebook and pen

She doesn’t ask what I’ve written

She reads a book about a poet

I’ve never heard of.

She makes her Earl Grey tea in

a green polka dot cup

and rooibos tea for me

in a cup that says

I quilt so I don’t kill someone

Her cat dives into my backpack

We laugh at the same time

I email her the website

of our former lover’s

dance video.

Wow, amazing, she says.

For years

we’ve lifted each other up

through divorces

hot flashes, secret longings

We’ve shared clothes and craziness,

She’s honored my true self,

as I have hers.