Tenant

At 3am I had a thought

already fully formed—

complete, with a specific feeling

attached to it, like it had been

waiting. Not a dream exactly.

Not something I was thinking about.

Just there.

I got up and wrote it down.

The pen barely worked.

Went back to bed.

In the morning the handwriting

was mine but looser—

like I'd written it fast,

like I was in a hurry to get back

to wherever I'd been.

The note made no sense.

I read it three times.

Set it on the counter.

Made coffee.

I don't know where thoughts go

when you're not having them.

I don't know where they come from

when you are.

I just live here.