I wake to hear the jingling of the keys 
at the doorway.  It's 7:45 
a.m., and since he has a class at 8,
he's left his house this morning and arrived
in time enough to keep from being late
again. That's how it is with Jeremy.

He throws his bulging bag down on the floor
and sets his laundry basket by his desk,
sits down at his computer, boots it up,
stands up, walks to the bathroom, takes a piss,
passes right by the sink, asks me "Wuddup?"
and starts to make his way back to the door.

Perhaps I've woken up enough to say
good morning to him, or at least hello,
and we may have a brief exchange of jokes
and smiles and how-ya-beens before he goes.
Soon after, I drift off, what words we spoke
forgotten in my dreams of yesterday.