closer to closure.

i drove home, i drove backward. this wouldn’t be my first time trying to peel the day away, achieve clarity on the likelihood of tomorrow. so they say this is her problem. i go grabbing for air with nails. forget i need hips to make a hula hoop spin. i had no time for jokes, small talk. six hours, one of them was counting, then she’ll be gone. i spent “extra” time thinking of men, few that have, and are, creating a changed me. tease a tongue into the mouth, and the kissed wake hungover with nerves. so the sought after always is comparing sense to sex, scraping the dream from her eye. while the lover stays, focusing on film. although ask and he’ll talk about patience, his flexibility as a grown man. we women are expected to thank him. after all how many times has our difficulty been topic for conversation. this means they like us, are thinking. and, of course, their nature isn’t to dehumanize anyone. men need our emotion to blame theirs on. projection!, the transparency. see they love all this feeling, wait around for all that touching coming after. he said i love you when i was in his arms. said i love you as i thought to pull away. said i love you when we had nowhere to go. it was obvious how different we are when i told him he is the best. and i am sure he knew better, recognizing my response did not reflect my reaction. what should have been said? what is it i want? i drove home, i drove backward. and thought of him, how once we separated we were able to quit smoking cigarettes.