I’m in a relationship
with the man
working behind the counter
at the post office

though I have yet
to determine
the nature of our pairing

he asks me how I am
as if fumbling for words
on a first date
i reply quickly fine fine and you?

he nods disappointed by
my urgency
and half-hearted smile

moments pass in silence
as we chew on our respective entrees
he looks at me questioningly
i stare down at my phone

a slip of paper is issued
I sign it he counts out the money
I stare at his chest hair

instead of placing it on the
counter he carefully slips
the notes and coins
into my outstretched hand

for that singular tactile experience
before our time is up
his soft blue eyes

always expectant
impatiently drink of me
without my acquiescence until
I leave there

awkwardly drained
knowing that
he’s watching me go