She showed up a few days ago
and hasn’t left, camped in the
downstairs bedroom, appearing
in the kitchen periodically to
make, and then gorge on,
chocolate cookies; disappearing
to see friends and then reappearing
to cook squash soup, squash and
barley mélange, threatening to
make squash mojitos and
squash cookies.
I found her at my house again,
sprawled across her bed at night,
as always, her arms crossed over
her chest, legs crossed as if
praying for a good night’s sleep.
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