Here's this week's www.textsfromlastnight.com poem.
(914):
First date was awkward. I think I just saw someone die.
I’m trying online dating.
Being truthful with the questions.
Yes, I want kids. No, I’m not looking for a stupid fling,
An evening with my clit, and that’s it.
And sure, maybe it’s shallow –
But I like a man in a suit,
And a guy with some money.
I’m drawn to a brawny sort,
Someone complex who can fix a car or take apart a sink
And lingers with faint aftershave.
And, for this town, that usually means finance guys.
Tons of finance guys.
And they lie. All the goddamn time.
Old pics, or some sideways pillow talk,
Or they’re just the opposite of their parts.
Like last night.
Freddy was blond, chiseled,
Went to Harvard on a rowing scholarship, took me to a Brazilian
place,
(got to practice my Spanish when I ordered and everything)
But he kept out his phone, wouldn’t stop texting,
And he knew nothing about current events.
I racked my brains, adjusted my bra strap,
Tried to think of a common spark of conversation.
And then an old man, balancing on a walker, outside the
window
Huddled along the rainy crosswalk,
Screamed, and a shiver of noise and piercing lights
Tore him apart. Then,
he was out of view.
Silence. I held my manicured breath.
The ambulance lazily rolled in, fifteen minutes later,
No lights. No hurry. Nothing to be done.
And the first thought, my first thought,
As Freddy kept talking about his timeshare
In the Poconos, was this:
At least there’ll be something to talk about on Facebook.
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