Number of guests who show is number
invited minus those you’ve slept with plus
number of current, better looking, lovers
equal to twice the melted cheese and
nachos built to collapse on dresses
in between faux polite laughs triggered
naturally by the unseen pheromones
excreted when one kisses a new
stranger on the cheek. Then the movie:
New Lust Cinema proudly presents,
in conjunction with Wild Mind Films,
Never Before Lovers, a made up
event playing out on all screens in
new, brighter than life technicolor
invention, constantly looping with
not yet met actors, stars to be born
eyed across rooms. Everyone I meet.
Shake my hand and smile politely.
Now champagne and whiskey flow and truth
inebriates the sane and reasoned
noises into a scratchy white blend
eventually leaving almost
no sound, but a softened moan burning
in my throat, a raucous cheer beating
near the cross of my chest. Instantly
everyone summoned to this little
shindig fades out into the silence.
No one exists but the blinking form
in front of me, the algorithm
nibbling your lower lip, mostly
empty glass calling for refill, a
near death epiphany. Your voice and
I must now interact, mingle, turn
nouns and verbs into barbs and humor.
Eventually you will come to
see, I am playing hide and go seek.
Not here, not there, not the warm body
in front of you. Time has arrived to
name the crime I’m committing, lay the
evidence out before the jury.
No, honest I’m not listening. No,
I’m not looking down your evening gown.
No, I’ve built a night in my mind, an
evening leading to morning breakfast.
Sorry, say again, I’m listening.
Now I’m in on the conversation.
I notice the tinge in your voice, the
nasty way you put yourself over,
edge you have talking about work, how
nobody listens. And not one time
in our conversation do you stop,
notice the snarl in my lip so
eventually I slip away,
say I’ve got other places to be.
Now I’m the ass. Now I’m the fool boy.
In telling about the night, you will
name me another big dumb guy. Tell
everyone I spent the entire
night gawking at your cleavage, and then
I left, just another man wanting
nothing but sex. And over time, yes,
eventually I’ll become lore,
story mixed to your mythology.
Nestled in a quiet neighborhood,
in a town with great schools for the kids,
nice and diverse people around us,
even a little swing in a park.
Nestled in the recess of my mind,
I built this house for us, before you
noticed my wandering and called it
every guy. Don’t let me disappoint.
Sure, I pictured the sex, you on top
niche of your back arched, me on top, eyes
inverted and howling. I’m a
neanderthal, but also a bit
evolved. See I pictured the after,
nuzzled together, snoring. Breakfast
involved pancakes and mimosas, a
nip from the dog that bit you. The house
exists, empty in my mind. Off white
shutters, dark accents, crystal blue trim.