These ropes are tighter than I can ever remember.

I’ve been a real specific consumer
for about two years now. I know
what in the hell I’m talking about.

This chick deserves a medal strictly confined
to black and blue brilliance. Followed by a real barnburner
written by one of those mad geniuses
who can make you laugh as quickly as they can make you
wish you’d never been born in modern times.

She’s a goddess who could run the front desk
at some out-of-work hotel and never once
stand-out unless she wanted to.

Basically
she’s my ex with a better hairstyle
and calmer thighs.

I’ve never actively sought out
the woman I was married to for six years,
although she was definitely married to me for seven.
It wasn’t like I walked up and down The Weird Boulevard,
watching the Baby Doll’s flag down limousines,
dwarves and trench coat soldiers looking for their ship
to come in and turn downtown into an amusement park
for grown-ups.

It wasn’t like I hit up every unemployed nurse
and dominatrix in sight trying to find this one woman
who might have those familiar habits of smiling at weird times
and humming songs that don’t necessarily fit
the live soundtrack. That wasn’t the case.

You could even argue that this woman found me.
You could also keep in mind that I didn’t even look
at her face until we got back to my house.

When I was explaining to her
what I wanted, going into the ropes,
the chair in the middle of the living room
and how my ex-wife left me there
with the TV turned to Cartoon Network,
I almost thought she wasn’t paying attention.

She really proved me wrong.

Any outside observer would have sworn
she had been to my house before.

Confidence, even boredom
in the way she opened and closed
the cupboards in the kitchen.

The rope was practically said hello.

She went to it,
and I guess some people would start
pointing wildly at the scene,
calling me all kinds of idiot for not
figuring out who this painful veteran clearly is.

It never crossed my mind.

Not even when the living room
went up in flames. Certainly not when she paid some kids
from the neighborhood fifty bucks each
to tell anyone who asked that they were just protesting
the bastards who leave their Christmas decorations up until August.

I just thought I had gotten lucky,
then unlucky,
before eventually admitting that most things
are whatever you want to make of them.

I’ve chosen to omit certain details
when they finally find me.

01/30/2010

Posted on 01/30/2010
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