Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Last time you were here. Four days ago?

When you showed up at 2am
I was still dressed, still working
And you settled into the windowsill spot as if you'd never moved out
And we smoked across from each other
Me sober, you distinctly un.
The tent hung over our heads, suspended
In the rafters like a question mark--
A bubble that needed to be burst
And I've never been good at holding back, so I point at it
It might as well have a pink elephant painted
Sloppily on it's side, anyway

I wanted to say:
Yes, I do still sleep in it.
Yes, I do still miss you.
But I didn't. Instead I giggled about bank robberies
Let you have your good mood
They're so fleeting in you these days
And then I watched it change
Your eyes became retreating horizons and I imagined you thinking
About the way she would have laughed at your jokes
Thinking about the way I laugh at them now.

And when you left at almost 5am
I didn't sleep
Paced my dark apartment in my underwear,
Pulling on the filters of cigarettes
Being a fucking film noir stereotype
Watching my own reflections in the smudged glass
Of the frames on my wall
And longing
Just like you.

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