Take it as imperative, the must assumed.
Email often, every evening, even after
just to say hey, or be forsaken. Surely there are instructions.
Take notes on cue cards – now cut and cue to you in the Yaris
driving yourself home to East Coker again. Shift
into manual, stroke and soothe with lotion, don’t
linger, know how to want but to have or to hold—
cuddle, coddle, nuzzle, nudge…Nope. Stroke
the greying temples of the head on your lap, don’t say
Christmas, don’t imply there are weeks to come. Love leaps to lonely
so quickly, late-night reading locked in your lovely condo,
books in the bed, along in the glow. Oh man, mad men are
in fashion and we, we are the hollow men, hollowed out, inviting no one in.
— Rhonda Douglas, How to Love a Lonely Man