You don't even know, do you. Silly thing--

When I lie in bed alone and you're gone
To see your wife and I say nothing but these seemingly
Apologetic Good-Bye's

I start to choke a bit and you don't notice, and then
Wait, like a dormant annual, for that time when again
You to turn me on my back again and whisper

Oh God Holl

And all the while
I think that God will peer
Through the bars upon my window and
I will write something great, someday, and recur
Perpetually invasive into your window
until my roots grow into
The old ground and mean nothing.