A Certain Intimacy

There is a certain intimacy

in sharing this space.

It's such a mundane thing,

making breakfast in the same kitchen.

But It’s you and I,

and it’s my kitchen,

only 40-square-feet

in my New York shoebox.

A space so narrow

the dishwasher

doesn't even open

all the way.

But we make it work.

Soft “excuse me”’s,

and delicate touches:

It’s a ballet.

We’ll perfect it with time.

Your whispered hum of Joni Mitchell

accompanied by the sizzle of the stove.

Even Kronos bows to our beauty,

making minutes feel like hours.

There is a certain intimacy in this

moment I know I’ll return to,

One we couldn't recreate if we tried.

It will have to be enough to live in it now.