It’s all about you

and you love me

so it’s all about me

you said

amused at why I don’t step

on graves, or how superstitious every

Jew you ever met was, on Friday the 13th

don’t you know it’s the Templars who were massacred, not Jews

you say, patiently, when I demur

going to watch a slasher film

it’s been the Jews so many times, we don’t

segregate our massacres, you know

I replied, wishing I could a drink chocolate

milk shake for the 40th time , driving past a retro diner

glimmering in the wet dark like a panther dressed in rubies

the tall sweating neck of a chocolate shake

even though I’m lactose intolerant and …

it’s the reason I wanted to come to America

you know? 14. Class film project

mine on vintage Americana , with juke boxes and hamburgers

with that special way they wrapped them, all perfect

tantalizing

(even though I was vegetarian)

that’s a kind of weird reason to immigrate

you laughed

watching me get my red tights wet on sprinklers

in May, a silly time of year for tights

unless you grew up in the city like me

where girls always wear bold hose and cardigans

it’s a thing , just like anis de flavigny

despite the dentists admonishment

just like watching Luc Besson retrospectives

you’ve nobody to talk to about

because you won’t sell out

your core values

you grin

at how I don’t ‘do‘ hairdressers

even at my age

won’t abide people who don’t read

any more than racists and animal haters

although, don’t give me a dog, please

I’m a cat person, through and through

maybe it’s that I can’t be needed that much

cats are fickle like humans

they only want their plate filled

I know how to do that, i’m Jewish, didn’t I mention that?

How many books do you read a week?

Did you ever smoke? I trust people who read, ex-smokers and glasses wearers

What kind of person wouldn’t like a girl who wears glasses?

Good grief the kinds of things people have prejudices against

I only dislike liars, especially the good ones

and fish, I really hate fish, even though it’s good for you

and I grew up near the sea

although everyone says that, to sound fancy

my home smelt of coal and despair and wet towels

it’s why I have a towel heater, my one luxury

the dermatologist said if I stay in this heat

I’ll have skin cancer by 50, but the dentist told me

my teeth are still good, so I’ll take the odds because

I’m stuck after all.

Where would you go if you could?

That’s the kind of question, really young people ask each other

I don’t relate to it anymore

(Macedonia)

shelf-life wears on me like a long grueling Summer

I still like 90s bands though, and boots with socks

and I doubt I’ll ever stop dancing

when I brush my teeth (for the dentist, for prosperity,

for the Jewish God, who is the same as all the others really, or not)

I love you, you know?

Years later, when you know everything about me

and you finish my sentences and

don’t laugh at my jokes as loud

it’s that tiny smile in the corner of your eyes

that’s what keeps me coming back

oh, and because we have to get through a vampire TV series

judge me for not going to the gym, don’t judge me for loving you

it’s soft and permenent and full of light

like a dance hall when the music stops

aerything goes bright

and you say, let’s go get a milk shake

and for once, I reply; yeah … fuck it

let’s

10 Replies to “Let’s”

  1. ha ha ha ha! I LOVE that answer! Have one for me too!

  2. Where can you get a real, I mean REAL, milkshake these days? Not some glop squeezed out of a soft-serve machine, but the real deal, spun up in a steel (the outside all sweaty with condensation because it’s July in the Midwest, 95 degrees and 100% humidity) pitcher and poured into one of those special tall glasses with the foot on the bottom, made with real ice cream, whole milk, and malt, and a paper straw, not plastic, and it comes with a long spoon too. And you and your Main Squeeze sit in a booth with cracked fake leather seats (red) by a window (like the one in that famous painting) and slowly consume you milkshakes with your mouths, and each other with your eyes, and every once in a while, put another quarter in the jukebox.

    I’m with trE on this , I want a milkshake too. I’m imagining one made with Ghirardelli”s Dark Belgian Chocolate ice cream (which I haven’t seen in a store East of the Mississippi). I can almost taste it.

  3. YUM! I can’t truly drink milk anymore so mine is in my imagination but I recall the taste so keenly it’s UNTRUE! 😉 xoxo

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