I’ve been told I’m whining about how good my life is.
Sometimes, you just need to hear the words “don’t go”.

Now I’ve heard them said with meaning and feeling
Yes, I’m fragile and human enough to need that.

Visions of a loft apartment above a warehouse in
downtown Detroit beckon me to uncertainty.

And next to me, she says, “bring me my salad,
or I’ll kill you,” and I can’t help but grin.

I’ve had my interview, geek-talked for two
hours, and they still haven’t decided.

She asked me not to leave today, and it pushed
its way out of her like when I told Red that I loved her.

Of all the promises I’ve made to come up
on a regular basis, the one to her means the most.

God damn, I need a clove.

All my ties to this city have been neatly
cut
and tied off in bows.
My anger and rage bubble forth unctrollably
as I snap at people that I will
leave
without a second concern or moment’s thought.
It’s finally putting a name and a
finish
on the creeping alienation that I never knew I’d
started, let alone fed scraps to like a stray dog.
Money
and too much humiliation bring my fists to balls
and hasten my step out the door into the
city
that I never really knew I lived in.
There’s only one person that will keep a part of
me
in this place, and now she holds the title “friend”,
because it’s best for both of us.

I’ll cry before I leave.