Love Poem

This is a love poem.
Yes, I can already see you fleeing
at the mere thought of my
outreached hand and I'm over here
spouting sonnets.
Some
call me the gangster of love
and others
say
"you are a fucking idiot"

I love like the velveteen rabbit.
I don't know if you remember it,
but essentially
the kid loves the shit out of that
thing until its eye pops out.
Smothered by the infectious and
looking rather pathetic, the rabbit has
a fate involving tears, fire, and
hallucinations.
Yes, I guess I am looking for something like that.

I know you don't understand how I feel,
because if you did
you'd have to have the kind of appreciation
for insanity that would've had you
institutionalized
long before we ever met.
you see
love, this crazy, out-of-control feeling I
want to lock in my basement so it stops
knocking over the plates and making me, living room,
look all kinds of out of place
is
but an expression
and
you, though libertarian,
have really about had it with this
whole "free speech" thing.

Friendly People.

There are some things that never fail to make my day. One of which is visiting my coffee truck guy(yes, mine. because it's totally ok to arbitrarily declare ownership over another human being. uhhhh...) I tend to leave my desk at obscure times, so that there is less of a chance of a line, or as I view it, a potential interruption in our brief chats(miiiiiiiine). It is also entirely possible that I have an irrational fear of seeing his interaction with others. (In case he is as nice to them as he is to me.) But we will just assume that that is not the case and move right along.

Delusions aside, today there was a line. Ruining the wonderful repetition of our encounters. Although very tempted to duck around until it cleared up, I had spreadsheets(read: spreadshits. thanks Sara.) to attend to.

I saw him interact with the three women ahead of me - all matter-of-fact, all business.

Walk up. Medium, two sugars, skim milk. Money. Leave.

I know that it shouldn't have, that it really, really shouldn't have...BUT it made me pretty happy. Perhaps slightly pathetic that I gain fulfillment from flirting fidelity in my coffee-truck-guy relationship, based on barely five-minute conversations, but whatever. It is the little things in life. Or as a fellow intern pointed out "Aww at least somebody likes you!"

I walked up to a "Good Morning" and left with an invite to stay and enjoy the rare, cool breeze on Hudson St. with my always hot cup of coffee.(Large hazelnut. He does not even have to ask anymore.)

I had to decline - a spreadshit awaited me.

Yea, it's the little things.