eight sixteen, part II

Standard

for every awkward moment that
was absent from our first encounter
there were six or seven more hanging
between us as we shifted warily
on listening feet
a futon that had seemed so inviting then
seemed now ominous and avoidance-worthy
all i could offer you to drink was
beer or water and my lack of
domestication seemed suddenly
not “cool” or “edgy” but rather
uncouth and immature
as i regressed past my tough girl shell
into the queasily familiar territory
of my teenage years feeling gawky
and twitterpated as i watched
you eye my belongings which you
had played with tauntingly just
a week or so before
something in the sense of you
told me that you queased through
the same river in a parallel boat
brought back to me by the watch
you left on my end table and i
held it hostage, wondering at the
intent (or not) of the leave-behind
you smiled and stalled for more time
as i unwillingly escorted you to the door
this is how we, you and me
achieve the balance of ease

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