we go to pizza city for pizza but
at the last minute you decide you
don’t want pizza and order a
calzone instead. we sit in the back,
lounging in a torn-up booth, sipping
our sodas, I with ginger ale and you
with coke. “how do my nails look?”
you ask “are they pretty?” flashing
blue with pink and purple sparkles. I
don’t really like blue but I tell you
“they look great”
just to make you happy. you smile
your beautiful smile and say
“I’m going out with Andrew tonight,
do you think he’ll like them?” I
don’t think Andrew likes blue either but I
tell you he’ll love it because I know
that’s all that matters to you now,
boys and nail polish and mascara.
when we leave pizza city and walk
down main street towards
your house I wonder if things will
ever be like they used to be,
when we were each other’s nail
designers and fashion consultants,
when we would sit in your living room
and play mash, but now you don’t
play mash anymore. “it’s a child’s game”
you say. “I know what my life will
be like, I’m going to be a nurse and
marry Andrew and have two kids, a
boy and a girl, and live in a little house
in the country and drive a beetle.”
next month you’ll go back to pizza city,
only it will be with Andrew and not me,
and when your friends ask you about me
you’ll say “who?” and move on
to a different conversation topic.
