03-09 On The Corner of Hawthorne and Thirty Seventh

on a street corner,
at Hawthorne and thirty seventh,
I wait, fingers shaking,
is it cold outside?

couples of indiscriminate nature,
walk by carrying grocery bags,
full of next weeks grapefruits,
kale, and bars of fair trade chocolate,
with cocoa nibs, with each other, with a dog,
with and alone. I watch them,

fingers still shaking,
what did they think of the man,
with the mustache, standing beneath
the street lamp, in a black pea coat,
shaking. I try to appear as if I belong there,
but I don't smoke, and I don't want
to be seen, checking my phone,
so I awkwardly lean on the air,
feeling ceremoniously un-sexy,
before a date with another glass of
champagne.

the street is a silent wet blur
of pink and orange streaked lights,
permanently noir, in the Portland,
constant afterthought of rain, when
thoughts of you pull at me,
is this why my fingers are shaking?

should I have driven you home,
sat in the seat across from you,
wondering what it might be like,
to get out of the car with you,
every night, or,
should I have walked away?

Inside the theater,
the movie ticket attendant with the smart beard
and weak mustache laugh about something,
together and disappear behind the counter,
wet towel in hand, I try not to appear curious,
but I am,
still thinking about you,

earlier shrugging me off, I wanted you to say
something, say anything. However it's a bad independent film,
and I can't write your dialogue. I am angry and not
angry out you. Concerned. I'd like a husband,
and you will make a good husband,
if you'd let yourself.
you smack me gently, though and say
no surprises, another day, another side.
I watched that other side walk away
from me, your jeans, never do you wrong,
I hold back my reply, instead playing
a few sweet chords on the piano,

don't we all?

I put out my fake cigarette, and refrain,
from texting you anymore.
I can see him walking
down the street.
my fingers stop shaking.
he is shorter
than I thought.

But, angels and demons,
I cross my fingers.
mama mia, here we go again,

He makes me laugh.