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and then i went outside & hotboxed my car
and could feel a weight right on top of me.
no boner: just a feeling
because i’m pretty sure my dick is dying
but i was only idling,
recalling other times other loves had held me

and that sensation flowed through me
and visually, i thought how the rest would be
as i imagined i wrapped my arms around her
and kissed her neck; smelled her hair,
thinking i could drag it on even longer
because time didn’t matter. i’d learned
how crucial it is, to make use of what i’d had
not that going out like Craig wouldn’t be totally rad,
but when would i ever find myself in a position like that?
getting fucking nuked while on top of a silo
telling my second true love i’d be waiting in the afterglow?
just have her and Vesper lesbian-domination wrestle.

so egg nog and coffee alone do not make a good mix,
and neither does socialism and living in the sticks.
may as well buy a gun and sit on my porch
and scare anyone away who comes knocking at my door
except the delivery folk, they can stay
six feet away.
“you can throw me my mini Amiga from the steps, mate.”
and yet the one person i want here the most ignores me.

in the past, i would tell them i was sorry –
and i consider myself an expert on this theory,
because even then i made movies about my own stupidity –
and then they’d ask “for what?”
and i’d tell them because of how much i made a fuss
over them; texting them;
overexplaining things to them like a mid-movie Michael Caine,
hoping to see them as soon as right now, again.

since then i’ve learned, generally-speaking,
that most women don’t like to be told where their lives should find meaning
nor has any female friend i’ve known
asked to hug me platonically while sitting on me half-naked
in the front seat of my SUV,
you know, for heat

so i’d scare them away
because that’s not a conversation for a second date –
not even a date, more like a cup of coffee:
the fact she even agreed was a participation trophy –
and then she’d be flaky and i’d say, “fine, it’s OK
that hot chick i wanted to bang isn’t interested in me
after all this time preening!
i’ll just shave off all my hair and block that bitch’s number
and she’ll be lucky if she gets a ‘hello’ the next time i pass her in the hall!”
although secretly i’m sure
i thought i was playing a little game with her.
but passive-aggressiveness didn’t work either

because i had nothing to miss:
not even a kiss, just the look
of a friend who missed me as much as
i missed them.
but i changed what we had:
“don’t say it’s love” sang Johnny Hates Jazz,
“we’ve never needed answers to find the way.”
never again.

and so that’s why i have her blocked: so there is no chance
of a reciprocal romance
even though i could feel the warmth course through me
as i sat in the car with the heater on getting fucking baked
at 5:30 in the morning on a Wednesday.
when it’s not about the sex, just the connection.
i’m living my second childhood to its fullest!
yay!

//jf 10.23.2021

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