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2:15 p.m. - 2010-06-17
can't hide
last night i was eating sushi semi-properly with chopsticks (though i did not rub them together beforehand) with people that aren't important to the world in a big way, but in small ways that create this chain of which i am the weakest link
keeping it together by threading myself through jealousy
and the song "little boxes" vibrates in the veins in my fingers and turns them cold, they shake under the table

of a doctor, a lawyer, two successful bakeshop owners with a brownie recipe listed in Martha Stewart's magazine, and a MIFA leader of sorts/Eat Local blogger featured on CNN

we sit on cushions and pillows on the floor and try not to let our legs touch

while the doctor is drinking cold sake out of an open little box (made of pine?), you and me with our tiny ceramic cups, (mine inevitably dumping over onto the doctor before the end of the night)

and i peek over your shoulder as you scribble the twenty dollar tip beneath the seventy-six dollar dinner bill, and my heart skips a beat and i think too hard and too loud

as the receipt joins the rest of your secrets, the land where i reside surely for someone else

then after hours, we mosey next door to walk by and peek in the window and are waved in by the head chef

for some free wine (3 glasses)

and i am getting bitchy while turning drunk

and i can't hide
that i hate when you lie lie lie
and follow girls who are proud to be
3/4 naked on Twitter

and it's you
who brings me into this crowd
where i am not important
but everyone else is,

so i have to be okay

with the naked girls
who you don't look at
they are just "friends"...


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