Told me I would see his place
Possibly his screenplay,
His vintage cars
A barrel on broken toothpicks: I said yes!
After several months of appalled indecision I asked him out again
And he short-walked into the bar
Lectured me as I remembered his spelling of “anilize.”
Bored, I asked why there was nothing between us and he said there never was
I thought of my bruised face and his offers of flowers and his place
Described to each nail head
And said Then why are we here?
And then I wasn’t
Cat said he stalked out on his stumps
in an outrage
Ride on, troll