In the kitchen

I'm waiting for you.
Always in the kitchen with a beer in one hand and a cigerette in the other.
Will I see you out the window?
Or are you already in the room, in my mind?

I don't know what you look like
or what music you like
or what you like to wear

but someday
we'll stand here
leaning against the sink
naked
my hand on that spot, on your hip
your head hair in the crook of my neck
and the wind will blow through us

and I'll know I've found you.