we’re sitting on a park bench overlooking the city skyline,
or as close to a city skyline as we can get because we live in iowa,
and the field we’re sitting in is filled with bright flowers and newborn corn stalks
and other things that are really pretty but make your eyes water from allergies.
we laugh at each other but it’s still awkward because it’s only our second date, we’re a little drunk,
and both of us are too shy to make the first move.
we’ve talked all night long about this and that, and nothing at all,
and as we’re sitting here, snot running down your face, eyes prickling with water as you try not to sneeze,
i can’t help but think about how lucky i am to be here with you.
you asked me what i was expecting to come from this, and by this you meant us, and
of course my first instinct was to play it cool and tell you that i was just here for fun, and
i really wasn’t ready for something serious anyway,
but then, because i’m a little drunk and a little awkward, i tell you the truth.
i tell you that i’m a little lonely, lying on my couch in my tiny one bedroom apartment,
and that my cat can only give me so much love before i wonder if maybe i’m turning into the
crazy cat lady down the street that i used to make fun of.
and that the moon shining through my window serenades me with lullabies and love songs and
this is the fourth time tonight i’ve listened to the same sad song on repeat.
it’s not that i need a boy to keep me from being lonely, or that i need a boy at all,
but i just don’t believe that this life is worth living without someone by your side to experience it with.
i’ve spent too many nights replaying the same fantasies in my head, and writing them down on paper only to erase them because they’re a little bit
(they’re really, really ridiculous)
ridiculous, but i’ve always been a dreamer and i guess that’s why i’ve always dreamed of nights spent
drunk and with you, like right now, and not at home again wondering why my cat is licking my toes and wondering why i’m still dreaming about you.
i tell you i want a relationship like the ones i write poetry about, but happier, with a better ending,
but my mom always told me that love like that doesn’t exist, as she’s marrying her fifth husband, and swears this is “the one.”
but i believe that even the hard moments in a relationship make it magical enough to write about,
and sing about,
and dream about,
and love like that does exist because those poems and songs exist and why would someone write them if they weren’t true?
i tell you that i don’t know if you’re the one,
this is only our second date after all, and we’re both too drunk to make those kinds of decisions right now,
but i’m writing about you and maybe that’s worth something, maybe it isn’t, but i’m not here just for the fun of it.
i’m here to discover something about ourselves, myself, and more importantly,
i’m here so that hopefully i don’t end up like Ms. Kitty, with her fifteen cats,
and maybe i can end up like the golden sunflower you picked for me because you knew it would make me happy.
maybe i can make someone else happy like that, and that’s what i want to come from this.