For a long time I’ve had no women to love.
Now I have two
And they hate each other
Without knowing each other.
I go back and forth between the two.
It is how nearly all my time has been spent lately.
There’s not even as much *** as you might imagine.
It starts off with something like, “Where are you coming from?”
Or, “How has your night been?”
those types of questions loaded with assumptions.
I’m not a liar.
I always tell them.
Then I spend a few hours soothing their insecurities,
Letting them know how much they mean to me
And assuring them that this other thing
Doesn’t change that.
Then we get to the *******
Assuming I’m not drunk past the point of staying hard,
Which, by that time, I usually am.
It’s a pain in the ***.
Even when it’s just one girl
Love is a pain in the ***.
But like this, with all the jealousy,
It is much more complicated;
There is much less ***
And far more quelling.
It’s funny,
I go years without it without a problem,
Then I get it so much that I hardly have it at all.
Life’s full of little ironies like that.
I imagine they get the most difficult to deal with when you can’t laugh about them.
And I am laughing,
Manically.