during the week when noa is finally born,

huge, and giving her mother a pounding en route,

i keep bumping into you around the flat

sat stock-still and wearing an expression

precisely halfway between spacey-stoned and zen master,

so that i can’t fathom whether you have suddenly got it

or are pondering eating some oreos.

we two have both had psychiatric meds coming out our ears

this past month.

i love your stillness, your buddha wisdom face,

and don’t wish to burst your bubble

by enquiring what’s going on.