It is as I come down this morning
and remember having tried to put away five
pounds of Idaho potatoes the other night
to find you had stashed twenty pounds
of sweet potatoes where I store potatoes
and onions even though we never eat them

and then having left my potatoes out because
there was no room for them and, besides,
I needed them for dinner the next night,
which was yesterday, after which I still
had a few onions and about three and a half
pounds of potatoes which I squished in
and around your sweet potatoes

and now see my empty Idaho potato bag
on the counter, all my potatoes gone,
you gone, no note (of course),
the sweet potatoes still in the pantry,
that it occurs to me when I said
you could stay, I might have lied.