I wish to send postcards
with pictures of every view I walked
or trudged through, captioned
“Wish you were here” in big cursive
I’ve been catching you in the washroom,
cracking the door to peek at my progress.
You’ve been sleepwalking, creeping,
leaving creaks on the weak spots under
I’ve been bumping into you.
I hear you speak in men who dole
out your wisdom and stories, being
overprotective for my own sake,
and picking up from where you left.
I’ve been drinking and it tastes like
when you sipped from a glass.
Unlike you, I’ve been careful; you’ve
been telling when to stop and I listen
because you never had the mentor.
I’ve even started to hear your distant
snores from another room.