License to love



I cheated in my dream. She texted first.

Be there at six, she wrote, to which I replied

I can’t. 

Then I took the elevator and never found her

(up there in my head).

I think I’m fooled by her glasses, her double-

natured eyes, two blank screens. 

Half of me stares on, transfixed, the other half, as always,

wants to slap her.

Do you think I love holding grudges? Am I using you

as a weapon? Maybe. It’s fine, you would say.

And I’ll be thankful you don’t wear glasses.