rotisserie chicken

your busted up subaru

in three inches of snow

you took me drifting

through the abandoned streets

of our little town

your car has always been

a little bit broken

it makes noises it shouldn’t

old and run through

the polar bear plush we bought

at the fruit market

sits on your dashboard

and it wasn’t a date

but if you wanted to call it one

I would never argue

it felt like a date

when my legs were wrapped

around your torso

and we were flying

down the grassy hillside

on my blue plastic sled

it felt like a date

sitting on a bench

under a balcony

downtown in the dark

eating an $11 rotisserie chicken

with plastic forks

while it was raining

it felt like a date

when you called me pretty

and said you like

the way I do my hair now

you told me last night

that you’d be a shitty boyfriend

that you’re scared

that you believe something will fail

before it even starts

I told you to have patience

in this epidemic of loneliness

I see you