or, another eulogy

---

“i don’t care.”

the words reverberated through the weeks
that passed since you spoke them
though they always felt like years.
i was still seething, when it was the smell
of your freshly-dyed hair that i wanted to be breathing.

it should have been a celebration.
did you ever lay with a man without your phone in hand
or in reach, just in case
what you thought was a connection was merely malaise?
i am capable of sitting around all day
doing nothing, progressively,
expecting some sugar with my coffee and cream like every man since the dawn of society.
“too sweet to be sour, too nice to be mean.”
timely.

look at me.

stop smiling: this isn’t Batman speaking.
David Byrne said that some might make it halfway
then change their mind:
i’m fast approaching the landing strip with the unaligned

and there was still so much i thought i wanted
and so much i believed i was missing
that time passed while i was guessing.
is it just that you need someone waiting at the end
to do all the stuff that you can’t cause you’re indolent?
the warmth of your children is moot if they’re starving
and all those texts from other men can’t be good for your well-being:
confusing you and your affront –
being fake is better than the cruelty of living.

i used to have a dream of you and i in-sync
even though you say to my face you don’t care what i think.
is this the way you talk to your beau?
it’s just another way to make sure your house ain’t a home.

i was only nice to you because i was in fucking love with you.
i hate you. forgive me.
come back to me.

//jf 1.8.2022

---

Photo by Tomu00e1u0161 Malu00edk on Pexels.com. We’re going to burn-off some backlogged 2021 stuff in this, the unofficial “Month of the Dump” (excluding July 2020, which I called the same thing), before I start really committing to some aforementioned promises. //jf