Compulsive Obsessive

if I place this object
here
and not

there,

if I clean the bathtub
one more time,

light the candle at eight,
extingquish it before

the bass bell
of the old clock
tocks itself out
of another waiting day,

if I align
the several boxes

(hard wood, with a soft center,
a tiny padded cell,
blue silk, once perfumed)

in idealistic rows
I know you will return
to me.

Then, I
will have nothing
that I have to do
but love you...