I miss the late-night drunken kitchen tours
when we dug through the refrigerator,
chewing gawping mouthfuls of soft cheese
and laughing through our fingers.
I miss slopping water up the stairs
while we shushed our own creaks
and then fell into careless sleep
just as the birds peeped out their first notes.
I miss carelessness most,
dropping measured thought and ethical weights
to get unreasonably high
and stumble through nights stretched long
on time's elastic wire,
lost without skepticism
and whistling into the void.