I never tired looking at you--
over the tops of all the menus
that we shared.
How your eyes were jewels--
they were--
some color that I had only
seen in Wyoming once before.
And you thought the way I pronounced
certain items on the menu were cute.
But now
I just feel like I have
a speech impediment now.
You left me for someone who
doesn't know who Andy Warhol is.
It's not that it matters. Only
that it is slightly annoying
that I had so much small talk prepared
for when I saw you, but when we sat
at the table for the two-hundred and fifty-ninth time,
I couldn't say anything.
In not so many words
it was like we issued these get-out-of-jail make-out cards
to be redeemed anywhere, anytime.
And every time we split the bill,
it is only a little less of a shock
to realize
for the two-hundred and sixtieth time
that this isn't the case.
-sonja lynn mata
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