Like I Said

I don't know you. I wish I did.

When you ask me to come by - a favor -

I'm there, and greet you with shine in my eyes

but your response is placid. Hello, thank you;

see you later. Good morning, thank you; see you tomorrow?

The phrases repeat themselves

though I hope each day they'll turn into something more.

I have a vivid imagination.

Then, on balcony top

you ask if I have a boy to go home to.

I say no. you finish your cigarette

and step inside as the glass door shuts.

The string of conversation

that built itself in my brain burns out

into nowhere. Like I said -

I have a very vivid imagination.