Tonight, I wait for a man I don’t care to name
to send me an email I don’t care to read.
Somewhere along this timeline, the phone rings
and I neglect to answer it, because what if it’s him again
trying to feed me another USDA-declined beef stock story
about how his laptop keeps powering down prematurely,
not unlike his marriage to a woman who, I’m next to certain,
doesn't care to read his emails either?
Woe is him.
I’m not waiting another night, and evidently,
neither is she.