playing romantic. even though we both know. everybody knows. but still, one, two, three looks back to get to the center of the sweet tootsie center of my heart as you walk away. and i pretend like that’s enough. i pretend like you’ve made it. you call when you land, distracted by the baggage carousel and annoyed at real life and finding a cab and having to go to work in the morning but we play nice. no canines tonight, those are few days out. we’ll make sad excuses of course. it’s hard when it’s just a voice. i just don’t know how to deal with missing you. reality is a mother. like necessity, only a different breed. like a great dane humping a chiuaua. chances are nothing good can come from it. a bug-eyed lop-sided big-pawed gangly stupid monstrosity at best. but we’ll force it a bit longer while we buy into being like everyone else, all the while knowing how nice it really is to be alone. to be free. to swing and roll and not hit a goddamn thing. still, plans are made and dates are set with and because of that defeatist attitude we’ve somehow both adopted that we’ll never do better. and then all the lies and fortifications that the reason is that we are, in regards to one another, the best. funny how being lazy just makes it harder. and no matter how hard it gets we’ll never not be lazy enough to make the unbearable lightness of being make us let go of the balloon. even after all the helium has escaped and we’re just dragging the damn thing down the road.
