Friday, September 16, 2011

Like Applying for Grants or Festivals -17/09/2011

.


She admitted to using me just for conversation

three whiskies in Kings Cross too late
into a night
both sets of our friends
had hours ago escaped from

we were at the caught-end
of a suddenly mumbled phone conversation
clearly I was not supposed to hear
too quickly back to the table
bladder evacuated after near five hours
flirtatious blather

her flushed face deflation
sunk me into an eyeless smile
because only then
were her eyes anywhere but mine
and my words
pushed question ahead of the answer

yep
that your boyfriend?

yep
disappointed?


(the giant neon flash of coca cola red shifting directly behind me)


only in myself

because my doubt
only ever seems to benefit
people like her

because I should have sussed it before
when she said her place
was five minutes that way
but we couldn't go back there

because maybe
it is in fact innocent
to hang out all night
with some guy you just met
who was chatting up lonely on a stage
in front of hundreds
buying drinks telling him you're drawn to him
in conversation flowing like physical chemistry
would come
just another ankle-depth length's upstream
where this barge of mine loads expectation-heavy
with hope

because when she joked
that she'd just been using me for conversation
I wanted to reply back
that I felt just as cheapened
but didn't say this
because I wouldn't really be kidding

because irony was bleeding thick
out the look on my face
as if she had now answered her own question
asked earlier
about why don't I apply for an arts grants

because I hate wasting time
on things that don't go anywhere
because when people
live up to my lowest expectations
I end up feeling stupid

and maybe I should have been the more naive
or innocent or understanding
that we were just drinking friendly
because I'd like to think that I don't think like that
the way women think men think
either
but both of us clearly expected too much
from the opposite sex tonight
perhaps from ourselves too

and I'd like us to meet in a place
where people give and take and share
without needing or expecting more
or less
from their hormones and self-esteem
a place where men are big enough not to assume
physical interest is in them
after hours spent out on a school-night
but that place
is not the Cross at three AM

this is a place
where one of us
had someone at home waiting for them
while the other
has only ahead of them
a long walk's cold night old adage
that goes

remember man
the type of girl who comes up
to start talking to you after a show
is only after one thing~





talking








____________________



eh, I'm not unaware I could be getting into some rather dubious sexual politics here, with the potential to set a nasty precedent and alienate fans, with a poem title won't help matters along either, oh well. I'll take it on the chin for the sake of seeing what the reaction is.




-Peace









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1 comment:

Antares said...

Well, talking is a species of "safe" oral sex, no? :-)