6. Ignoring phone calls from people. Don't get me wrong, I love it when you ignore phone calls from other people when we're together. It reassures me that my presence is paramount in your small universe. However, when I'm calling you, and it rings and rings, I know that you're sitting with a cup of coffee staring out a window, ignoring my call as you've ignored so many others, or laughing with friends, or some other lover, while my name flashes across a screen like a voice from a distant room.
7. I don't like how you're good at riding a bike, and how once you made a joke about the fact that I don't know how to ride a bike, because I'm awful at riding bikes, and I always like to feel like I'm good at things. And watching you, pedaling down the street with a determined look in your eye reminds me that I am not good at this, or anything.
8. I don't like the fact that we don't kiss. Sometimes we sit across from each other at a table and talk about the weather or the ocean in winter or the way that someone we know nods too frequently when people are speaking. And then it goes silent, and we stare at each other across the table and salt shakers and then you'll go back to talking about the weather or our mutual friend instead of leaning across the table to kiss me.
9. I hate how sometimes you'll say a few words in a foreign language. And I'll pretend to understand, or maybe I will understand, but I will really know is that you're telling me that I don't know enough about the world or you, and that there are vast and unexplored regions of your soul. Or at least that I am ignorant.
10. I hate that your face, in certain lights, is flawless. I hate that when I stare you at you across a candle lit table that I am certain that I am in the exact right place at the exact right time and that life is a meaningful proposition or endeavor just because we are sitting here, fencing over the last piece of bread at some dumpy Italian place on the corner of fifth and Market.
11. And I hate how your face leads me to an idea of another universe far away, or near. I don't understand physics, and the possibility that a universe exists where you and I are not sitting across a table at an Italian restaurant, or not not kissing across salt shakers. And it nearly moves me to tears that there is a possibility that thousands of universes exist in which you and I never met, or parted ways before today. And then I remember what I love about you. I love that you are here right now, watching me write these words, our fingers intertwined, here and now, deeply familiar, in this otherwise strange universe.
7. I don't like how you're good at riding a bike, and how once you made a joke about the fact that I don't know how to ride a bike, because I'm awful at riding bikes, and I always like to feel like I'm good at things. And watching you, pedaling down the street with a determined look in your eye reminds me that I am not good at this, or anything.
8. I don't like the fact that we don't kiss. Sometimes we sit across from each other at a table and talk about the weather or the ocean in winter or the way that someone we know nods too frequently when people are speaking. And then it goes silent, and we stare at each other across the table and salt shakers and then you'll go back to talking about the weather or our mutual friend instead of leaning across the table to kiss me.
9. I hate how sometimes you'll say a few words in a foreign language. And I'll pretend to understand, or maybe I will understand, but I will really know is that you're telling me that I don't know enough about the world or you, and that there are vast and unexplored regions of your soul. Or at least that I am ignorant.
10. I hate that your face, in certain lights, is flawless. I hate that when I stare you at you across a candle lit table that I am certain that I am in the exact right place at the exact right time and that life is a meaningful proposition or endeavor just because we are sitting here, fencing over the last piece of bread at some dumpy Italian place on the corner of fifth and Market.
11. And I hate how your face leads me to an idea of another universe far away, or near. I don't understand physics, and the possibility that a universe exists where you and I are not sitting across a table at an Italian restaurant, or not not kissing across salt shakers. And it nearly moves me to tears that there is a possibility that thousands of universes exist in which you and I never met, or parted ways before today. And then I remember what I love about you. I love that you are here right now, watching me write these words, our fingers intertwined, here and now, deeply familiar, in this otherwise strange universe.
i rarely answer the phone because too often
ReplyDeleteit is an organization asking for money even though i am on the "do not call" list or
it is someone who wants to offer bad advice or
depress me with their tales of woe..
italian places do not have bread..they have
sour dough!!