I am of the breed
that walks against the wind.
A warm wind though
a Spring night
on Houston street
towards the D.
I’m going home,
I need to sleep alone.
Earlier, half naked,
we’re chatting on the couch.
Apparently,
you trust me enough
to take me to your bed,
but not to get high together.
“That’s weird”
I say
“I am VERY trustworthy.
Can’t you tell?
My darkness is inside
it’s mostly sadness
I would never hurt anyone.”
I love even mosquitoes
as long as they’ll let me sleep.
But you are not good
are you?
To be fair you gave me hints
when I said you were bello e buono
you did say you were bello e malo.
“Cattivo, you mean,
that’s how we say bad.”
After gaining my trust
by pretending not to trust me
you mention casually
while talking about traveling
and hostels versus hotels
that on that trip to Colorado
you’re going with a girl.
I pretend I haven’t heard.
I go on smiling
when you’re looking at me
but when you aren’t
I have a pathologist’s eye.
I wish I hadn’t left my glasses there
since I don’t think I will see you again.
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