I saw you, Michael MacKay
But I totally forgot I knew you
We were sitting in a cave-like theater
when a boy indirectly asked me for
two pieces of advice
about college
I say 1) I didn’t do any clubs until junior year
And 2) when I did do a club, I only did one
“Yeah what was it,” he asks.
“The Varsity Show” I respond.
He mocks me.
I try to explain to him what it was.
And as he mocks me more, it dawns on me
“Wait a minute, you were in the show!”
Pretending to be offended, you mouth the words “You forgot me?”
“I forgot you!”
“I love that about you,” you say dispassionately.
I ask what you’re up to these days
It sounds important but simple and I wonder if you like it
You always volunteered to do things that made you miserable.
You describe your job as “putting together documents for researchers”
“It’s going to be an app that tracks everything, and combines all of the information out there surrounding any single event”
“How can I see you again,” I ask. “Do I make an appointment?”
“Perhaps,” you say, “I’ll see you next week.”
As we walk out of the theater
your arm is around my shoulder, yet your hand is on my ass.
You kiss me delicately on the cheek.
A peck
light pecks
but with each peck
it feels as though you’re taking bites out of my ass
And my ass is stewed chicken
shredded and minced
like the buffalo chicken dip that you used to eat for breakfast
lunch, and dinner
because you’re picky.
Oh, how you still turn me on, I think, for no good reason at all.