Wednesday, September 06, 2017

Radio Diversion

It escapes me now already, the urgency of loss.
Intestines unknotted,
Nights that pass without cold t-shirts wicking away the swears and tears
Of an unshared skin's remorse.

What remains are the indelible sensitivities.
Removing your name,
Your email, your avatars from wherever
Might they be able to not be.
The newfound humorlessness
Of once absurd and profligate phrases:
Sucky fucky, Cuckold Stone Creamery, totally the bushes.
Your wisdom deferred if not unappreciated;
Residual fondness that weighs, on an approximate scale,
Two orders magnitude less than the aigue registered
Only weeks, months, minutes ago.
That women on OkCupid suffer
Two orders magnitude more intention than men,
You taught me, a year ago.

(A half ounce gain per day was expected of her,
So we attended her magnitude
As one might wait on love to grow.)

The gentle reminder
To no longer address you --
No longer the primary auditor --
In my thoughts;
Instead the work in progress
That strives to find her groove,
My inner Stella.

(A haha not a hahaha.)

Buck up, kiddo, you'll get there.

This bar is nice. Cheesy sliders
And fried Oreos. 'd be nice to come back here sometime
With. . .
The sympathetic sushi waitress you met two weeks ago.

The regular rhythm, that the Old Normal
Has become the Official Norm,
And the New Normal just
One last thing to share
Of all the things to come.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Did a magic trick and stumbled on this. I'm giving it my own meaning of course. Recently someone told me to "go back to what I was doing before I met him. Go find someone else." Haha. Not hahaha. Well, I will take that advice unreservedly and go back to being picky as hell about who I fall in love with. Maybe more. I'd take a fucking fried Oreo over a partner right now.

12:49 AM  

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