Friday, July 10, 2009

.127/work in progress

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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