As she staggers drunk from the margaritas
She picks up the phone
Calls me
And drops it
I lose myself in the empty silence
For about fifteen seconds
And I know it’s her
I love her
When she speaks she laughs
She tells me she broke up with her boy
But she can’t come out with me tomorrow
To fuck or build fire in the woods
Because she’s going out with her boyfriend
Which is okay
Because I don’t give a fuck either way
I don’t really give much of a fuck at all about anything
And
I love her
Flirting and playing tag we’ve been in lust
And setting goals without following through
For about six years
I am so enamored of her despite the things she does
You have no idea
It’s an addiction
Her boyfriend is in on Saturday
I ask her to tell me she’ll be washing her hair Sunday
But no. She’ll be eating barbecue with me
This is the woman who encountered a checker
About a year ago
Who asked her if she was the same Cupcakes
Who broke Neal Bailey’s heart
In all those poems
Yes
She is
She still is
And no
I never learn
Nor will I
It’s not a stove
It’s love
And I’m not taking my hands off it
When she hangs up her blurred voice pauses
She giggles again
“Goodnight, M-“
“Neal. Stop. Neal. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“Good night.”
“Good bye.”