Accidental for J

Some mornings I lie in bed with a stranger,
daylight slat-shot through shutters. I count
words between light-lines, my secret eye exam,
x-ray, bedclothes, my template.
I can’t remember if the clock chimes anytime ever.
Today I’m dressed like Christmas, I’m lit,
I’m drinking Red Rockets and oh how they glare.
Here is where I was sitting when I thought of you.
Here is a picture, reversed.