about make believe person

who made me a make believe mess yesterday evening.

i'm not certain how it all started,

but it all started with a vodka tonic.

perhaps even a few vodka tonics,

and more still.

this frequently seems to be the case.

dreams transcending into reality transcending into heartache.

charmed by some elixir into succumbing to a degenerate,

a bell sounds idly on a Saturday with no promise of a nuptial.

i, on the other hand,

spent a few frigid minutes here and there

in wellingtons and a smoking jacket behind the house,

in preference.

and that's where you'll find me, in the summertime.

barefoot and fresh faced with a pipe and an agenda.

wrapped in a loud silk robe cinched tastefully about the hips. 

if i wasn't busy enraptured in a pair of green eyes

i was being led away by a smaller, but similar pair of hazel ones.

similar in the way that the light reflects off of them, 

and in the way that they seem to triple-dog-dare you to even try.

how i try, and try again.

she tidied the desk and smoothed the blankets 

and propped a stuffed friend against the pillows.

she told me bedtime stories of lions and tigers and each of us three,

a lover, a traveler, and tormented me. 

i may as well have received the royal treatment that you would never sponsor.

coming from a three year old it's almost as if to say:

i know, it's OK.

even my green world was interrupted by the re arrival of those, strangely greener eyes.

like a ring dove cooing in the branches, your silent expressions

confirmed everything i wanted to hear but couldn't believe,

and couldn't possibly understand.

so you keep telling me, that is.

but you've yet to have answered to either of them.

later, in the same voice that i could not understand

you whispered close into my ear to revvvv the engine.

holding me dear from the cold, but what i mean to say  

from the too much space between us.

and your lips kept on moving

and your eyes kept on yearning for some sort of understanding

and the corners of your mouth kept on creeping up your blushing cheeks

and someway, somehow, i was supposed to make sense of it.

in defense and in case

i rolled up the window and breathed you my heart against the pane.

and you asked if we wouldn't stop, that you liked this game.

and we texted moments after as i made my way down the hill

something about a cop out and things being circumstantial. 

then something about too many drinks, and then a few shots more.

then something about driving me crazy and important "friendships" galore.

not a word of which cried promising.

the next morning we smiled and nervously wondered where to start.

an idle afternoon with idle tasks with idle conversation,

forgetting to mention, caught up in the moment, completely slipped my mind

who are we kidding?

start

with the vodka tonics i said, 

and the vodka tonics still i laughed.

f-a-c-e

l-e-g-s

a-r-m-s

how many fingers?

f-i-v-e

o-n-e, t-w-o, t-h-r-e-e-e

e-y-e-s

h-a-i-r

m-o-u-t-h

l-i-p-s

e-a-r-s

e-y-e b-r-o-w-s

s-h-o-e-s

s-o-c-k-s with s-h-o-e-s

can you write: tooo spencer?

i'll do better by you.

that's what i'm afraid of.

you wouldn't really believe a word of it if i told you, anyway.