The Other Guy
He smiles at me in the cafe. where did he get those lips. I'll bet he doesn't even know he has them.
It's a funny smile, flirt and guilt in one I find out later. He dated A. after I did.
A.and I loved one another like a reckoning, all thumbs and left hands, empty pockets and shrugs.
All three years erased by that afternoon, the last, him sleeping on the living room futon his back to me, the white curtains closed to the afternoon, breathing to let something in.
The movers had taken everything but him and the futon.
I was late for work, but could sense this was the last time, and that he wanted it even though it would hurt him.
He was bare, half there, half gone.
Smaller kisses now, mouth half open, his smell again, once more, for the last time. I will leave after. Won't say goodbye. I am a half-eaten orange, nothing left to peel.
This guy in the cafe, the one that knew A. later, smiles again. Tells me he loves my writing. I wonder if he knows the whole story.
R.
It's a funny smile, flirt and guilt in one I find out later. He dated A. after I did.
A.and I loved one another like a reckoning, all thumbs and left hands, empty pockets and shrugs.
All three years erased by that afternoon, the last, him sleeping on the living room futon his back to me, the white curtains closed to the afternoon, breathing to let something in.
The movers had taken everything but him and the futon.
I was late for work, but could sense this was the last time, and that he wanted it even though it would hurt him.
He was bare, half there, half gone.
Smaller kisses now, mouth half open, his smell again, once more, for the last time. I will leave after. Won't say goodbye. I am a half-eaten orange, nothing left to peel.
This guy in the cafe, the one that knew A. later, smiles again. Tells me he loves my writing. I wonder if he knows the whole story.
R.
posted by rwgray at
9:10 PM
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