sometimes i make myself
scarce.
it feels how it did when
i used to pretend to sleep
when my mother entered
my bedroom.

i've never really
been one
to harbor any sort of
jealousy
when it came to
girls.
i figured,
go ahead and let them
cheat and pine
over other men.
that keeps me
out of
that horrible condition
we call love
or having to worry
about how
we will collapse
on ourselves
like a
burning barn.

sitting around at work,
stoned.
we already fucked up
one sale.
we were both:
at the register
talking about the same thing
fumbling our way
towards any sort of resolution
with her,
between ourselves.

she took her goods
and bid us good evening
reluctantly.
"what day is the fourth, anyway?"
she called back to us.
"friday
or
saturday?"
"saturday,"
i said.

in my
paranoid brain,
she had just
tested me.

Hey!

Check it out! ...the parade!