so i woke up this autumn morning in a room
with two orchids by the window;
one's stem was bent strangely so that the flower
could face the sun to the east
and the way the sunlight fell upon its soft purple petals
i could tell that it was happy,
at least until the evening came.
i could hear coffee brewing and caf was clattering around in the kitchen but
i was sore from dancing
and didn't want to get up yet.

after everyone had dragged themselves out of bed we
fried the chicken that had been marinating
in fish sauce and sugar overnight.
the glaze we prepared solidified so we ate the salty pieces with
brown mustard and rooster sauce instead,
shuffling from stove to table to counter to stove to sink
mumbling about life in general, passing the sunday
paper around and quabbling over
who got the crossword.
the sun was warm and yellow outside even though it was windy and
like the orchids we all subconsciously angled ourselves
to absorb as much of it as possible
because we knew
how soon it would be leaving.

the big task that day was to help caf move
some of her things into the new cabin
she and alice were renting,
so i found my knitting
and we left
to drive back to her place,
through tunnels of rustling colour, playing the
loud jazz of last year when things were simple
and a clarinet solo was just that.
it was easy to say goodbye to alex as we made our way out to her truck
because i told myself that i would see him again
before he left to seattle.
and somehow for that second
i was tricked into believing
that that yellow sun on our petals
would not set.