it wasn't just about her looks.
she was intriguing.
she was foreign.
and she seemed like someone i could spend the rest of my life getting to know.
i knew i would never tire of her beauty.
she made me quite nervous.
it always felt perilous.
i always tumbled or fumbled
when she was around.
she made me laugh.
i made her sit up
and take notice.
i was more charming (than psycho).
"you'll have to work hard for this"
she coo-ed,
motioning down her torso
with perfect hands.
she thought i was a sucker;
that i was incapable;
but i took her declaration
to heart.
the next time i saw her
i had a real job.
i quit doing and dealing.
i ran every day.
i also came back.
i reconciled with my family and
let go of my anger towards my ex-wives.
i read more and watched tv less.
i became a better listener.
i was being recognized.
i started to succeed.
she was impressed-
so she said.
unafraid -
i moved forward.
i texted and emailed and called.
i spent too much time thinking about her
and buying her things:
volumes of art and
little blue boxes from tiffany's -
pure french perfume;
and scandalous items
via agent provocateur.
i crafted mixes of
music to swoon by:
marvin gaye and al green.
roberta flack and donny hathaway.
chet baker and nina simone.
i felt like i was in high school.
i gift-wrapped everything myself-
tight like a hug -
and lovingly -
like a home cooked meal on a Sunday,
instead of family and warmth and
3 kinds of potatoes -
ribbons and silk flowers and
hand-painted cards on expensive stock.
all this got me was ripe for failure.
she told me
she could
never be with me.
afraid of what the answer was,
i didn't ask why.
she offered up
'i'm not attracted to you.'
without thinking, i replied
'you don't even know me.'
after that - i couldn't recover.
she beckoned for a ride to the airport.
my heart was brick and crumbling
and too heavy to do more for her than i had already done;
she accepted my emphatic 'no'
but i actually heard her smirk
through the phone.
as the departure date loomed near,
my caller i.d. once more
displayed the word utsøkt and
a photo taken of black lace panties up her skirt.
a cruel and persuasive series
of communiques ensued.
the next day i drove her to the airport.
that was the last time i saw her.
she knew
when to quit.
i was nothing to her.
just a fan-
trying to get
to their idol.
as obsessed as i was.
i was becoming more psycho
(than charming).
that had to cease.
i asked for her help.
but that went unanswered.
my dissatisfaction -
the end came too soon.
what if i had succeeded
and won her heart?
what would i have won?
makes me wonder.
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