Matthew

i always wondered why
you left the burned hole in the floor
once you found it,
didn’t try to hide the evidence
under layers of putty, as
would i

your name always evoked for me
theology class, Mark, Luke, John,
the books i read unwillingly,
having had enough information already
for a religion i knew
i would never belong to

you
comment on the length of my hair
as you are enveloped in the
smoke, the haze of your hookah
how much it’s grown -
how much i’ve changed,
you mean,
although you wouldn’t say it

we own cats, now
slinking from room to
room, as if they
own the place

and you have not changed,
despite my bend
and warp
constant, and sure of yourself
in ways i will never be,
despite all my confidence, and
appearance to the contrary