Christine

Christine

 

She lives down the alley

though it sometimes feels like miles,

usually closing her eyes

just as I open mine.

 

But we get to see each other

once and a while.

 

She makes it, comfortable,

for me,

every time.

 

We sit Indian style on the couch

and talk about the crucifixes’

that cover her wall,

and the skulls that cover

the counter.

 

We talk about books,

and what music is relevant

at the time.

 

Then I go home

so she can get some rest,

and I smile on my walk.

 

Even though

it sometimes feels,

like miles.