When my cab pulls up
there’s one car in the lot,
with New Jersey plates.
awkwardly then look
each other over.
It’s like the last time I saw you
you weren’t all the way to yourself.
Yeah, Mike laughs. Weird thing about guys.
All the girls I went to high school with
were totally there by senior year.
I lean back in the waiting area booth.
It’s just us and the staff.
The dim light feels heavy.
A waft of green tea hits me.
It’s so… it’s like we were almost lying
about being us, you know?
He chuckles. A waiter comes
at us with menus.
I took a drive around earlier: nothing
lasts. Not even the Candy Connection.
I scoff. You know, I haven’t, either.
But you’re in… Brookline now, right?
You can visit any time.
Sure, I guess I could. But it feels
like a foreign country out here.
If you don’t have a mortgage
or a College job, everyone looks at you like you’re unfit
like you’re some kind of saltwater weed
in their pond.
Frickin’ tell me about it. My old house
looks like a mansion now.
I spent two minutes trying to find
my old front door. Then this Hispanic lady
walks out from the back, and pulls out
in a ten-years-old Tercel, almost
T-boned me. There was a guy in the doorway,
watched the whole thing happen
with this real dirty look.
I almost got out and said something
but then I thought, this guy thinks I belong here
as much as the maid. And he starts
to walk over. I think, how’s this guy
different from my dad, right? I can talk to him.
He comes right up to my window,
leans over, stares at the gear shift, sighs
and says if I’m not here
to clean the windows, I can just fuck off.
And what was I supposed to say?
Hey, man, I grew up here.
I mean, I grew up in the house
So you can fuck off.
I’ve tried that.
It doesn’t work.