When you called you sounded tired
I was too from the night before
And although we both felt an obligation
To the twilight of our twenties to do something…
Something significant, on this Saturday night
We decided against it and instead to smoke a hooka
When we sat down at the cafe you complained of work
That the nurses had done this or that
Of a patient who had been especially sick
And I told you about my research
Of its glacial speed in the direction of nowhere.
Your phone rings and you answer
I take a moment to look at you while you talk
And see that this is a new shirt and laugh to myself
that it was you who taught me how to dress in this city
Introduced me to expensive jeans
Gave me a push in the direction of a style
And now, years later, I shake my head
Because your shirt is ugly and doesn’t suit you
You are done now with the phone
And like every time we see each other,
after discussing the failures and frustrations of
our daily lives, you ask that question to which
I have begun to cringe these days:
“How is the girl situation?”
There is no situation my friend.
For I am done with these situations, and flirtations.
These backs and forths of talking to girls who are either
over-eager or under-eager
Or, in those rare cases where the eagerness is just right,
when the porridge of emotions is neither hot nor cold,
that is when the three bears of commitment, commitment, commitment
come running home, to ruin everything and scare me off.
And I told you all of this a month ago but it seems that you,
have not taken my epiphany seriously, and think that,
after a few weeks, nature will take its course
and trample over my personal enlightenment.
