Saturday, August 13, 2016

Love On A Friday Night, 2016

It's faster these days.

You get on your phone
not to talk, but to type
and write tiny love letters
to the one you are thinking

Unless you think 
of more than one, 
you type messages to each 
of them, all of those girls,
or all of those boys,
or both,
praying a sick little prayer
that they all don't decide to
take you up at once
on the same Friday night.

That's not love, that's
a rout, a defeat, a flogging, 
an epic fiasco the dogs
(and the cats and the rats)
won't let you forget.

But even that too is faster 
these days...

The phone rings...

Not to talk,
but a message,
a short love letter,
two words...

'Fuck Off.'

It's that kind of Friday night -
good thing for you
it only comes once a week.


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