She likes the mismatch of her socks and we both
enjoy Space Invaders, but in different contexts.
We haven’t talked much and it’s good. I come off uncouth

sometimes, but I mean well.


I gotta stop falling for the pretty ones
that are just slumming with a scumbag

when they run into my arms. Some
dirt-poor passion project in my swagger

gathers initial interest,
and then a month or so later I get jettisoned

in favor of some ‘real man’ with some friends,
and a house, and a dog, and a job he tolerates.



Do you ever think of me
lying under some shady,
green New Jersey tree?

Do you ever think of us

riding crosstown on some
overcrowded subway, or bus?

Remember how I made you laugh?
You said ‘are you always this happy?’
The daft stay in love longer than most.

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