indians.
battleship
why am i so nervous about going to this thing tonight?
usually, my fears are more rational than this, more universal.
rationaler even.
i’m afraid of battleships–
being on one or being attacked by one–
but who isn’t?
i know it’s not because she’ll be there.
or him.
or them.
it’s not that we’ll all be there together, seperately.
i guess i am afraid of her, and him, and them a little,
but aren’t those pretty understandable fears?
going to the same party as your ex-girlfriend
is probably a lot like hosting saturday night live.
you’re nervous, it’s exhilarating,
but afterwards you have to wonder
if closing that chapter of your life
was worth being torn apart inside.
OK.
it’s really getting to me now.
i’m more solicitous than a virgin on prom night,
holding the hand of a pretty girl,
a grade younger,
full of expectations,
a mouth full of metal,
and clunky.
a battleship.