sometimes it crosses my mind that i have
probably had exorbitant expectations. otherwise,
what a problem it was to find someone
for whom bosch is not a commercial brand,
who does not mind watching the apartment
multiple times in a row, and has no desire
to toast her body in the sun of tenerife,
or whatever the current hottest spot is.
and only today, when i reached for the jar
of sauce, the same as always, sweet and sour,
it dawned on me that maybe it was not a problem
with the expectations, but that i always entered
the wrong lift.
hidden pilcrow 