left breast pocket

[____infinity]

I think that soon
I may go to Boston
and then come back home
not remembering a thing
because in about a year
or 2
or maybe just 4 months
I would have forgotten it anyway
so why not start the process early
and sit pretty
in a crappy apartment
with a red plastic cup
waiting for another
staggering soul
to walk up to me
convinced that
he
or
she
could have some sort of
inebriated impact
on my life.

And in retrospect,
the next morning
when lined up
next to countless memories
or countless mornings,
it probably will.

So I will
get on a bus
and pack something small
and a skirt
and straighten my hair
and alter my face
and let a few
pretentious words
escape my tired lips
sitting on a couch
done with any sincere attempts
done with any genuine butterflies
done with the word butterflies
done with sandy legs and ocean taste
done with i miss you
done with your parents
done with piano songs
done with soft touch
done with hang ups
done with being dizzy
my arms wrapped
around your neck
and newly smooth legs
around your waste
eager
done with eager

sitting still
pretending to laugh
pretending that story
the boy in the green shirt told
even mattered.
pretending that stare
played with my nerves
in that cool crazy way.
pretending that anything
on a cold night
in a crowded room
could ever matter.

i have felt
all i need to feel
and the proof
is in black
on your left breast pocket
can anyone see it?

you have your friends
with deep voices
and rolled up sleeves
and i have my friends
with nicknames
and condolences

you have your music
i have my body
you have my body
i have your music

if you see me
at a party
pretend i am just
legs and a face
and take off your jacket
so i can pretend
my legs and my face
never found solace in
in your left breast pocket.