03.03.05 - 5:22 p.m.
at what point is one of us going to say do you
like me? or get so drunk that we accidentally
kiss? these lunches feel clandestine, this everything does.
this having a conversation that starts with
maybe if i like it there we could move and
stops you in your tracks, forces you to consider
the most correct and least offensive way to say
he is it, the only other one; a lifetime
of romanticism and imaginings in
what may as well be a robot designed to give the right answer
and the only things keeping me sane are those 3000 miles
and his persistent lack of interest.