i see your wearing the same clothes
i left you in,
and that your beard is a little scruffier,
your hair a bit less combed.
i see you still have the power
to make me stop cold in my tracks,
and stare at the floor.
my hands, they still shake.

we sat cordial, palms stilled in our laps.
you said you'd stop by in the morning.
every so often, i'd look back and
our pupils would momentarily align,
quick glance away.

as you wrote down my number,
and told me yours,
you hid your eyes in various directions--
you said,
"why do i always look away when i speak to you?"

i said nothing.

it's always been a fight with you.
constantly trying to compare our achievements,
outdo the other with a battle fairly won.
a competetion of strengths and weaknesses,
who can outlast who,
who will be the first to make the move?

at the end of the night i always end up
backed against the wall
with your tongue down my throat.

we always laugh and awkwardly graze flesh
with over-excited fingers.
you stumble over buttons
and i over buckles.
always violent, frantic,
needs to be met and voids to fill.

always, our gazes disconnected.
our lips in unison, our eyes closed.
grasping and biting and pushing.
angry and relieved.

in the end,
i always went upstairs.
you'd fall asleep and when i'd move,
you'd ask me to stay.

mostly i left anyway.
i'd be lying if i said
i didn't usually regret it.

tomorrow,
when i see you
we'll be alone.

the most dangerous of times
to put up our fists and dance around
the tension.

we'll probably walk through the woods
and smoke a joint, hands in our pockets
making small talk.
not looking in similar spaces.

and we'll argue about something unremarkable
and you will be antagonisic,
i will be aggressive.

we'll call each other on it,
and probably wrestle to the ground
our growing prides.
and we won't care who started it,
as long as it gets finished.


i just hope that you don't win.

06/07/2006

Posted on 06/07/2006
Copyright © 2024 Lauren Singer