I don't know about this one

I don’t know about this one




After a certain amount of time indoors

the calendar on the wall

begins to look like a chess board,

and since starting college classes again

I’ve read five verses from a Romantic poet

and I’m now both tired and bored,

she messaged me first,

but five months later 

and three innuendos this week,

I’m left to check my cell signal

or wonder if my time at home 

has helped me to write a synonym 

for what it means to be alone.

I don’t spend much time

thinking about what they think of me,

you could call it a false pretense,

but it doesn’t make sense 

to waste time on other people’s sensibilities,

“Yes,” I say.

“She’s very pretty.”

“Yeah?”

I nod my head,

“The kind that’s troubling,

because you know 

just what they’ll do with the time 

that’s so precious to you.”

And I feel like I’ve written this one before, 

you invite her over

and as you come through the door

she walks directly to them

and asks, “What’s this one for?”

The lemon tree 

that I bought last year

never did die, 

but the fact that

I didn’t have any other plants outside 

caused me to forget to water it,

it’s like when you 

finally get paid to do

what you would do for free

all the fun goes out with it.

Two beers at 5:30

do taste better

then three after 10:00,

and who knew before then

if I’d be ready 

to look off my balcony 

and have a feeling like happy

that’s in my heart right now,

very few in California

can enjoy a property with a view,

life turning into a one-way street

and we’re stuck paying for parking, 

two steps forward to go one in reverse,

look back to see that your mirror 

has disappeared with expensive apathy.

“I suppose it’s for,” I say.

“Keeping me busy 

so that I don’t see 

that a man like me

needs something 

like the woman in front of me.”

She doesn’t get so much bashful

as she does become defensive 

and moves back to an arm’s reach,

“Why aren't you directly answering?”

“Well what do you think about me 

spending all my time writing?”

“I think it’s sexy.”

I let her ignore the fact that

it’s desperate, 

needy, and at many times 

depressing.

“Oh ok,” I say. “Let’s let it be that.”

Dan Parks