October

When I’m running after work
In pale pink October light
At the time of year when everything
Looks beautiful between five
And six-thirty PM
I smell other people’s dinners
Cooking wafting in cold air
Afterwards I’ll get take-out again
And probably drink a beer
And I got asked out on a date tonight
But I told him that I couldn’t
Even though I wanted to go
But I feel grotesque
And like a fraud
And it’s not always like this
But it comes in these odd ways
And I wish that it didn’t
But I’m still a bit hurt, I’m still confused
And not sure of what to do
So staying in with Ethiopian
And Cezanne, nothing at stake
Like I’m under house arrest
In case he sees me out in the world
And I’ll be found out by this near stranger
Who seems handsome and fun and sweet
And age appropriate
Still I’m running a cut across the park
Past the tall thin man
Smoking a cigarette
And I feel more like him
Than this twerp jogging
With foggy glasses and cold hands
And I want a freaky Friday mm-mm
I try not to think about
Futures that don’t even exist
But when I did all that I saw
Was us riding bikes to the beach
And getting too much sun
Then doubly heading back to your place
To eat tortilla chips
And drink Modelos
And fool around
And watch a movie or something
Is that so bad?
You must have seen something else
Now the summer’s gone
You’ve been to Rome
And I went on tour for a month
Now we’re both home
But we haven’t talked at all
I guess it’s done
We had our fun