All week
I’ve even waiting to see you
hoping to run into you
praying for a chance encounter
like last time.
I know we said
we’d leave the future to fate
but a week’s past
and I don’t really think fate
is up to the task
of hooking us up.
I really want to hook up
with you again.

I really want to hear you talk
about the politics of masturbation again.
Really, I want to hear anything
you’d have to say.
I had secretly hoped
we’d both coincidentally find ourselves
at the place
we’d just happened to be last time
and that maybe there was enough of a connection
to bring us from then to now.

Nope.
When you said to leave it to chance
you meant it
– more than me, at least.
It was not the first time this week
I was wrong, I guess,
nor the forty fifth.
Wherever I go
my eyes rarely leave the front door
looking for you.