Chatting begins and doesn’t
seem to go anywhere in particular.
Conversation moves
from people never being prepared for snow
in a city so cold already
with how we treat each other
on public transit, to a sci-fi thriller
about a comet with a green tail
passing through the sky, while a dinner party occurs
and the guests start disappearing
one by one. It’s enough to Google
the compatibility
of a Scorpio and Capricorn
because he’s down to watch the film again.
Numbers are exchanged
and texting goes from kissy-face good mornings
to kinky goodnight pics.
Everything’s enough to feel something
but nothing in particular,
so maybe a feeling will make itself
clearer in a coffee shop, or a night in
with a sexy indie drama, the one where
Michael Fassbender’s character masturbates
several times daily because you both love
the simple complexity of addiction.
But the promise to set a date
is never met. Conversation tapers off
until the next response is “who is this?”
The chance to explore whether or not the two of you
could have been something, or nothing
in particular, vanishes.
David Ly's poems have appeared in publications such as The Puritan, PRISM international, The Maynard, Pulp Literature, The /tƐmz/ Review, and others. He is the author of the chapbook Stubble Burn and a forthcoming full-length poetry collection titled Mythical Man (Anstruther Books, 2020). He responds well to GIFs of Michael Fassbender on Twitter @dlylyly (Photo credit: Brittney Fernandes.)