My thoughts go round and round liked a roulette wheel, the
silver ball destined to land somewhere: red, black, zero or double zero, here
on the brink of it all being over I land on odd moments, like the time she
texted me again and again, asking where I was and why I wasn’t where she was,
some swanky new eatery she had to cover, and I still spinning, texting back: “do
you mean me?” getting over and over the same response: “Where are you?.
And like a silly pull toy I am strung along, yanked back in
that direction, she using magnets under the table to get the ball to land where
she wants: red, black, zero or double zero, and in my head I wonder should I
stay or go, rush back to where she is even if she won’t answer my texted
queries, and I have to guess, and I rush back there, yanked there, hoping this might
be the reprieve I’d hope for, ending up finally in the place where she is, only
to have her ask what I am doing there, telling me the texts she sent weren’t
for me, and here with her vacancy stare, I wonder if it ever meant me, then or
now.
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