Handsome Andrew, 12.5.19
“Draw me like one of your Constructivist
girls,“ I laughingly say over coffee.
And you trace a mug with a dizzy kiss,
feigning earnestness, then passing to me
A bar napkin bearing a single shape,
centered with purpose, folded once, in two.
“I drew us both,” you softly, sweetly say.
“One side’s me, and the other side is you.“
It’s ridiculous. Our stacks of sweaters
and racks of records stare each other down.
We are halves of a circle, together,
our happiness so unbearably round.
And what’s worse, it’s untrue, a lie I tell—
that I’d love someone that’s so like myself.