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Everything in the fridge is fresh and good. 
A funny sign at the store made of wood. 
My best friend is making his way into town. 
Remember yesterday, when we would frown?
The icicles in my freezer have finally started to melt. 
I went to the craft store and bought my favorite color felt. 
I made him a collage. 
Of photos that feel as refreshing as a mirage. 
As he turned his car into the driveway,
He was nervous and ran over the curb that day. 
There was no damage to his car. 
Which took him very far. 
As he parked in the driveway. 
There was so much to say. 
I had thought this town wasn’t working well.
This new job made my eyes swell. 
But this Sunday, I have the day off. 
And I didn’t have a fever or cough. 
I had a few extra dollars in my pocket. 
And I finally found that old locket. 
We talked about stress, and everything horrible. 
Then we ate homemade chicken until we were full. 
I think Sunday’s are usually just fine. 
Or at least benign. 
But sometimes Sunday’s can invite something more. 
Like an old friend through the door. 
He left at 6:35 in the evening. 
I put the food away as he was leaving. 
Leftovers for lunch tomorrow. 
Going to work, feeling sorrow. 
But next Sunday, I’m going to make a new collage of us. 
Of pictures that were covered in rust. 
But he saved them all on his phone. 
And sent them to me for when I’m feeling alone. 
The old locket, which I haven’t worn in a while. 
That I found in that old pile. 
A pile of clothes in the laundry room. 
And that old broom. 
Don’t feel as sad anymore. 
As I would tend to sweeping the floor. 
Maybe Sunday is a time to smile. 
Even when sweeping the dust pile. 
Knowing that someday, he will drive though town. 
And turn my Sunday upside down. 
Sunday is when I do every chore. 
But once in a while, it’s something more.
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