Instructions on getting to Someday. 

I'm starting to build us a day
between Sunday and Monday
out of wooden blocks
and how in the spring
the grass feels cold like
mouth wash.
I know it's rude but I won't
invite anyone else--
And you can listen to that
poem I wrote about us--
The one with the metaphors
And too many repeating
lines of "I love you like"s 
approximating a feeling that 
could only ever fit between Monday
and Sunday.
No not that one--
...
Yes! That one!
The one where I say I
think about you like flyleaf
pages where there is enough
space to write a sonnet
or draw a picture of a
soup bowl I saw
flipped upside down in the sky.
The one with hummus platters
and our fingers practicing
cartography on each other.

So I'll meet you there between
Sunday and Monday.
I'll sit in the grass 
and I'll bring a beach towl
because it's still a little
cold in April-- Just follow
the map my index finger
left on your palm.