or, no offense, but i’ll wait until you’re dead

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it’s the perfect mystery;
better than my father’s legacy
or an Oscar would bring me:
i’ll wait til you’re dead
before you find out what happened to me.

no one is getting younger
while the young are getting stronger.
i look at her ass as i pass at the pool and i wonder,
is that a world we’re birthed to now?
the sky a perfect shade of blue
and here at the gym is where we spend our afternoon;
living longer;
our nutritionists telling us what to consume
like a multi-million-dollar movie star,
all for a gaze to linger afar like another memory
on a shelf of jars, preserved in vinegar.
did Tom Holland look at Zendaya that way
as he strutted passed her in the studio that day?

did i disappear off the face of the planet?
what would it really matter?
there wasn’t any search party i had to pay for later
or some beauty at the finish line telling me i get to date her,
begging me to call her my sister
because years as a camgirl have successfully trained her.
i walk in my front door; that’s it.
no reasoning with it,
and the only ones who know me are the ones who i let in it.

for people to not know what i’m doing
or where i’m at,

i like it like that.

//jf 2.12.2022

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