“Let’s go out tonight.” The whoosh of digital wind
chimes have hardly finished sounding from
my iPhone’s speaker before the dot-dot-dot of
your “Yes!” enters the tiny screen held
in my hands. Better it were a small bird, that is
how I’m feeling these days. You know it without need
for explicitness, and soon you are
at my door. Soon we are
in the uber making small talk with a man
neither of us will ever see again, his face
only a sliver in the rear view mirror. His voice
already gone from memory the moment
we leave the car. His will not be the only one
forgotten on this night. You won’t let me say
his name. I could say that
this poem is about friendship, but
it is more and also less. Why
do we choose this place?
Why here? Where your breath and voice fades
into a bad remix. Your face becomes a blur
among the bodies, the scent of your perfume
mingles with sweat.
I cannot hear you,
cannot hear myself. Maybe
this is the reason.
I could write a poem about reasons, but
I’m dancing instead.
