i only remember
the last week in March, the
day before you were to return to Germany
i could not fathom having
gotten so close to you so quickly
and now oceans separating our laughter again
just like that
those parties chez toi
they always made me nervous, cringing
to think of conversing in French for three
four, five hours, hours of exhaustion
before i came i indulged on red wine
the sweet kind from the Loire just nextdoor
and you moved out so it wasn't your business now was it
my head got foggy on purpose
i had to have a foggy head
to fucking stand another drawn-out soirée
where you are the guest of honor
you were always the guest of honor and
i never felt good enough to be sitting on your right side
the joke of the Loiret who knew no way to be happy here
but i had my trusty wine in my belly
and i was golden, conversational wiz
confidence surfacing from the too-conscious parts of my brain
and i giggled perhaps a bit louder and longer
and you asked me with a smile if i was already drunk
yes! i wanted to scream, yes! i am!
because i don't want to fucking be here
with these temporary people who tolerate me!
you can at last stop tolerating me
Veronika gave you a necklace but
you did like her more than me didn't you
i gave you some perfume of mine
to remember me, if you can
if you are capable of remembering
you handed me my give-a-damn on a polished plate
i should have thrown it to the floor
and enjoyed the crash instead
08.2012
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