I don’t remember

It’s sweet that I kissed your cheek,
but what I wanted was full-on-the-lips kissing,
the cheek was nice enough and all,
but I still imagine tongues in each other’s mouths,
don’t remember what it felt like with you,
but I imagine.
And I imagine holding hands at movies and
while we drove down the road.
I imagine I imagine many things that never existed.
I imagine your hair all piled up on your head in the morning,
and the time that I decided french toast would be good for several weekends.
I imagine one million cigarettes on the front porch
and a few hundred foot rubs that I could’ve done better,
and I imagine the time we went to Italy in the summer and
decided to stay in bed for one whole day.
I imagine the day I proposed with the ring I thought to be ill-fated
and you said yes and I imagine the time in late spring
when we got married out by the river and we were barefoot.
I imagine the kids, all off to college now,
and retirement fast approaching, and possibly the cliche RV in the near future.
I imagine, despite a full working furnace,
and the thermostat turned up amply high,
that the bed will be cold tonight,
the pillow will too.