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Very rough first thoughts on this one:

Sunday
Afternoons belong to
football.
Yes, I'll get you a beer.
No, I don't need anything.

Monday
Your last minute early
morning flights
are a crappy way
to start the week.

Tuesday
Instead of moping around
the house
I went to the bookstore.
I met a woman.

Wednesday
How could dinner
be a problem?
We all eat,
afterall.

Thursday
Morning purgatory
with cigarettes and me
lingering on your lips.
No, I'm not busy today.

Friday
changes include the sheets,
my heart.
Welcome home honey.
Yes, dinner's ready.

Saturday
Early morning shopping.
Don't forget
chips and salsa.
Who are we playing this week?

Business Trips

It's too easy for you to leave
to simply gather all
you hold
necessary and precious
fold them into orderly stacks
in a suitcase
marked with a red ribbon
for easy identification
as yours.

Vacuuming remnants of our life
from underneath our bed,
passing the timelessness,
I found a forgotten necktie.

I secured it through my beltloops
tied into a square knot
even a sailor would be proud of;
wondered if you'd recognize it
and whether you would claim me
when you came home.

Patchwork, revisited

As a child I watched silently,
questioning how her fading eyes
could envision two hundred triangles.

An elaborate planned neighborhood
of harmony and contrast, held
together by highways of thread.

Her creased mouth parted
"Scraps of cloth are effortless
after piecing together 28,000 days."

Closets have a way of becoming full;
they alone laugh at entropy. Nestled
between photo albums and ticket stubs

The abandoned quilt waits patiently
for my young eyes to discern the pattern
and my rushing heart to find the days.

**Putting down thoughts, hoping I'll be so ashamed this is public that I'll fix it :)

The clouds shed snow
all morning.
I ate lunch, flakes
large as nickels fell
unceasingly.
I looked out, saw bare
green grass,
tried to not write of
futility.