Good Enough Temperature

I ran the tap until I stopped running it,

which was before the hot came through.

Three times I reheated the same cup,

three times let it go cold on the counter

the way you keep a conversation going

past where you meant to stop.

At four I poured it out and stood there

with a glass of water that was almost warm—

not steaming, just

warmer than the room,

the kind of difference you feel in your palm

before your hand adjusts and doesn't anymore.

I don't know when I stopped waiting

for the real thing to come through.

I've been filling the glass this way for months—

running the tap, not waiting,

setting it on the counter, picking it up,

setting it—