I mentioned it the way you mention

I mentioned it the way you mention

things you've already decided to handle alone—

trailing off before the ask fully formed,

assuming she'd be busy, assuming

the conversation would move on.

Dara said yes immediately.

Saturday, she said. I said

you don't have to.

She said I know, Saturday.

She showed up at seven-fifty

with two cups from the place on Ferris Street.

Steam off both lids.

The furniture still exactly where it was,

in the middle of the room,

which I had not moved.

I thanked her four times in the first minute.

We moved the thing. Twenty minutes.

She stayed another hour.

I have not answered her last text.

Eleven days.

I don't know what to do

with someone who just shows up.

Brings two cups.

Doesn't make it a thing.

That's the part I keep getting stuck on.

The not making it a thing.