Unremarkable men, though they’ve little to offer, make the most generous fucks
.
if you can spare the time, pencil me in, ‘cause i’ve been slumping in front of your
building for thirty-five minutes, needing to please you. weeknights
like this one, i rearrange your features in my memory, as if a pimple
here or a stretch mark
there would make you more interesting.
or i make teeth on your asparagus tip, and you
stab me with it until it’s a smooth stalk. would give us
something to talk about, other than the traffic or
nonfiction. instead we
have the same unspooky sex, a soft handshake level of
nonchalance,
and you drowse me
with your dry potatoey voice.
i don’t wish you were handsome, or kind, it’s just that,
as it stands, and don’t take this the wrong way, the world
would be quirkier without you.
and i wouldn’t have to
wonder so much why i wait for you,
if you weren’t
so fucking boring.
