I got here before the regulars,
  rando-proofed the corner with a chair for me,
  a chair for you,

  and floor space built for Duke and Mr. C.

Yesterday ran on parallel tracks—
       you—couch night with Coal,
       me—Irby’s with Chris,
                      Levin,
                   Overtime,
       our thread keeping the rails aligned.

Near the wee hours you hit me with a surprise—
              video call in streetlight color,
   you walking Coal, that smile in night-mode…

   the nothing we said together
   felt like everything anyway.

I slept as well as a man can
  without his favorite pillow being a person.

Woke early,
     good mood pre-installed,
     proof that one bright face before bed

     can reboot a whole system.

Game Day rules apply:
    table staked out,
     sightline clean,

     two water bowls and a nap-approved corner.

Voice memo sent: “Come if you can”—
      but if you can’t,
      I’ll keep the seats warm

      and let the Jackets have the loud for us.

Rando-proofing is an art:
      one napkin over the spare glass,
             a hoodie on the backrest,
                my hand on your chair
               like a “reserved” sign.

      (an entire room can be saved
       by the way a person looks forward to you.)

If you’re not feeling it, rest.
   I’ll send you the band noise and the best parts,
   leave out the flags and the fumbles,

   keep the thread on a low simmer.

Duke approved the table.
Coal has an IOU burger and a clear runway.
The TV hum has learned our pace.

I’m here—before the kick,
        after the anthem,
all the quiet in between—

Saving the spot where your hello lands,
       where the crowd turns into background,

       and the day remembers how to be ours.

Go Jackets, softly—
        seat saved,
        smile waiting,

        rando-proofed and ready.