Sharing Headphones in Bed

He offered once to be nice, when we 
were up too late, was surprised I said yes

and then wanted it again: to sleep with 
one earbud in my ear, one in his, tethered

together and to the sitcom streaming
from his phone, the actors bantering

unseen in our sheets. For him, sleep is 
as on and off as two hot friends in a loft,

and though for me, it’s as dependable 
as the quirky neighbor, I can’t quell

my desire to slip into his routine
that tumbles us nightly into slapstick,

one of us always rolling over, pulling 
the cord, the other fumbling for their half,

our appendages bumping awkwardly 
as strangers falling for each other

until, exhausted, we lie quiet, side-by-
side, listening as characters replay

their lives, every will they /won’t they / 
breakup /wedding / baby pillowing

those places where a mind might wander, 
making every ending soft and bright

for the two of us sharing these stories
that run long after sleep has arrived.