Don’t Think   Don’t think that I don’t notice when you don’t think that I’m looking at you with your knife, constructing our dinner, you with your phone,   talking about puzzles and love, the things that matter most, and don’t think that I won’t remember you slathered with mud, singing   Dylan in the Dead Sea, or the private you, smiling to yourself as you bring in the veggies from our garden of life.     © Michael Fleming Brattleboro, Vermont May 2021