in seven short minutes
i found out your address
and saw your confirmation
photos and learned that
you won a creative writing contest
when you were in high school
and that you used to love a girl
named kitty,
and i never took you
for a man who'd love a
girl who's name would
end in "y" but i still like
you anyway because
when i went to leave your
car you asked me if i wanted wine
and you poured some red truck
same as what i once gave you
when you were sick in bed
and sad from too many mistakes,
and i sipped that wine and sat on
your bed with my shoes on my feet,
waiting to see if you'd yell at
the impoliteness of dirty soles
on clean sheets, because i like
to test the waters and to blur the lines
of okay and not okay at all
and you didn't say a thing,
just put your head against my lap
and asked me if i liked to read
and you gave me a book that reminded you
of me and i knew i loved you then,
and you asked me if i had regrets
and i asked you if anyone didn't,
you told me you'd never tried acid
and i told you that i did
and we laughed and you asked
me what it felt like and i twirled and
twirled around until i fell on your carpet
and you said "is that so?" and i laughed
and hiccupped and you said that it was cute
to hear a girl in braids hiccup while drinking wine
and i told you not to laugh at me
that i was genuinely as ungraceful as i appeared
and i stood up to leave and noticed that
half of your collar was up against your
loosened tie so i went to the bed
and balanced on my knees against your chest
and fixed your shirt at which point
you took my elbows in your hands
and grazed your fingers down my arms,
i kissed you full on and bit your lip
and you called me feisty, said you liked it,
i went to kiss you again and turned the other way,
faked you on it, and i laughed at your face,
you hissed and i kissed your forehead and i left
at just the right time to ensure that you might fall in love with me
or at least call me in the morning,
and i played it cool until i got in the car
and let out that heavy sigh and when
i got back home i threw my shoes against
the closet door, ate some ice-cream from
the pint and typed your name into
the little box that would reveal
whether or not you were wanted nationally.

but you weren't.
only by me.

07/18/2006

Author's Note: i'm silly, yes?

Posted on 07/18/2006
Copyright © 2024 Lauren Singer