it’s funny
it’s some kind of joke,
a sick, laughing matter-

when I think about my romantic hang-ups,
I don’t think about the anger,
the painted pain and numbing drugs;

I don’t think about the venom,
the magical manipulations;

I don’t think about the pitfall,
the sudden drop out of love;

I don’t think about the hook-ups,
the rolling and pulling without thought;

I don’t think about her dress,
the thin walls sweating with sexual tension;

I don’t think about the first time I said it,
two in the morning after watching Good Burger;

I don’t think about her truck,
or sitting out in it on a quiet highway,
making out like we were making up and watching the sun fall over the hood;

I don’t think about the long phone calls,
me up late and whispering into the receiver about toothpaste and bunnies;

I don’t think about the short message with long silence,
that broke my idea of trust and morals;

I don’t think about “Sugar pie, Honey Bun”,
playing over a recorded card, Valentines day two-thousand something;

no

I… uh…
don’t think much about those moments
not as much as you’d think;
what I do think about is you
standing in your doorway,
the painted
and re-painted
and re-painted
arch thick with the same white that I knew so well,
speckled with a texture of ambered-mosquito memories from dorm tenants passed,
I remember I was leaving,
I turned to you,
you said, “So this is it?”
and I said, “Yep, see you around, kid.”
then I left.

what I
should
have said
was,
“I hope that this isn’t it,
I hope that as fast as I leave here I’ll be back.
I don’t know how to say goodbye to you
in a way that does justice to your role in my life thus far,
and every time that I think I’m ok,
that I think I have it handled,
that I am comfortable with someone or in some place,
that the lake of my heart has calmed to reflection,
I see you.
I see a version of you.
I see a flash of an idea of you.
I see something that reminds me of the intensity of your smile.
I see someone hold their hands a certain way,
I catch a glance from a stranger and wow their eyes are
just like…

“huh…

“and that’s it,
Rock falls into lake,
fish create an undercurrent,
and I reflect on how much of a beautiful mystery you are to me.

“It’s silly
and it’s irrational
and it’s completely unattainable
and it’s a completely perfect mess;

“but, it’s been over three years,
and I owe you the truth that I didn’t tell you then:
that
I wish I would have not let go so easily,
because when I think of my romantic hang-ups,
I only have the one
and it’s because I never said a Goddamn thing.”