You didn’t text or call
I find instead a short illegible list -
Reminders for you? Me? Someone else?
I peer at the writing whose form I recognize
but can’t piece together
I flip through the notebook knowing
I’m looking at what you don’t want to be seen
Commit the open page to the pencil cup
of my memory so I can return it the way
you left it when – if - you come back
I smooth the crumpled sheets
nervous you will appear and catch me
searching for you
searching for what I haven’t found
when you are here
