That's Clay for "hi there."
Here's a poem I wrote a couple of days ago. No title, not for the blog version at least.
The dryer churns.
I walk back inside our apartment,
Pebbles clinging to my bare feet.
The air conditioner gasps.
I fold the frayed gray T-shirt,
Drop it on the uneven stack.
The ceiling fan rotates.
You sleep,
Covers drawn to blank out light.
There is nothing to add to this interval
In words or thoughts.
All we need is here --
In between our breaths
And the movement of our blood.