We’re standing here, again- again
where we were all those months ago
I stand and I wait for you say something
I need you to tell me you miss me and want me

I don't know what I'm doing, I'm
unclear and I'm hesitating-
going straight and calculating.

turn away, turn around
look back / walk straight

you duck your head and trudge past me,
make me want to strangle you with dental floss
or a rope of some kind would do
I’m not that picky when it comes down to means

wheels rolling past crunch down on
assorted, random chunks of tar and asphalt

I drift away to happier thoughts- unable
as I am to control myself
around you, in particular

turn away
then turn around
glance back
walk straight

but you don’t have anything new to tell me

so I just turn up my music
let some obscure bands, with less recognition
than they deserve, sing to me
of far off lands I've never seen
and you've never heard of; and I turn away
turn around
look back, but
walk straight

I don't choke you with dental floss after all
but I'm so consumed in anger,
stuttering and stumbling over syllables,
I cannot get my meter right.

I measure out our short-lived run in eights and elevens.