Poem | too sweet…

She was telling me about

how her boyfriend had

broken his leg on

a skiing trip in

the Swiss Alps.

And then asked

if I had found

a job

yet.

“Not yet...”

Then she was telling me

about how her boyfriend

had changed his career,

again.

Hedge-fund management,

or something?

Numbers, spreadsheets,

that kind of stuff.

“Impressive…”

She continued; that she was worried

about him with his leg.

Hated to think about him

in pain.

“Broken in two places,”

she was saying.

And asks if I had stoped

smoking so much

marijuana.

“No…”

Went on to tell me how sweet her

boyfriend was; sending her

a crate of Italian wine,

and then asked me

how I planned

on paying

off my

debts…

Before I replied, we arrived;

stood by her door and

she asked me

if I wanted to

come up

for tea.

“Sure…”

Sat on her recliner,

and she asks;

“two sugars, right?”

“None…”

She must have mistaken me

for her boyfriend, who

takes two sugars,

I assumed.

Then she went

into the kitchen,

puts on some music,

comes back, momentarily

holding up a bottle,

pointing to it -

looking at me

inquisitively.

I nod…

She departs to the kitchen again.

The music gets louder,

not unpleasant.

She returns.

“Your boyfriend like this stuff?”

“No. I was hoping

you would,” she says

placing two glasses

on the table,

sits on her couch,

no coat,

no cardigan.

Starts patting the

cushion next to her,

picks up a glass, while

looking at me

inquisitively.

I come over,

she hands me the glass.

I sit next to her, and

she watches me drink;

secretly observing.

I turn to face her

looking at me

inquisitively.

I knew then, that

I should never

have come

up for

tea…

If

only

I had been

thinking more…

Inquisitively…

…