Pookie

I see him sometimes. No, I don't see him. I see him like he is a half-finished puzzle. I find pieces everyday but he is always one away from being the full picture. I see his fingertips, his ankle, his right nipple, a corner patch of ginger hair. I see him in the freckles of strangers everywhere. Freckles like the ones I traced on his skin like constellations. I look up and swear its him slipping a hot mug of coffee into my wanting hands.

I pick smiles out on the street like I'm picking out shoes. I try them on my eyes and no matter which one of them I choose: white, yellow, bright, or dim, they always fit him. The crooked teeth, the white ones, square, that looked like home leaning into me. At first, I locked away Pookie because I couldn't call anyone else that.

Then, I found out holding a Pookie was like holding him. I let them be the little spoon sometimes because he said he liked it--once. He liked my red sweater so I wore it all the time and when I got compliments it was his voice boasting up my ego. He fit me better then that sweater but I'm left with the weaved, wool pieces; something to pull over my arms instead of into them.

Does he see corners of me: a hickey, my neck wrapped around his fingers then pulled into a kiss, my hair hit by a breeze?

Will I keep seeing him in pockets, around corners, in far-off places where I will swear I saw him and dare my friends to say I didn't? That is all I'll say that it's okay and I just--saw him the other day.

I'll make the quiet promise to myself instead, every time my mind frees away from him to find a date or a guy who will say I look great on Saturday, I will call them all Pookie I will see him like breath on below freezing days and i'll hear him whistle or sing me to sleep with my head stationed onto his padded, flesh pillow--he can be everything but Pookie again.

I will have the parts of him I'm allowed to have. He will be there because if I hold on, it builds muscle mass. But, i really haven't seen him have I? my eyes play tricks on me, its a funny thing, and by funny I think I mean it's really sad. If I can't have him, I can still have Pookie I can't be sure he isn't out there calling someone else darling, so i'll keep Pookie safe, for myself, and that's as much as I can let go. I wont give up knowing his address and his favorite restaurant in the city, If I don't see him there, ill try again tomorrow. I'm sure he doesn't mind me letting strangers sharing in parts of him that make me wish Pookie never existed.