i’ll just want someone to go to the movies with,
and to make fun of me for caring enough to notice
that i ended that clause with a preposition
but not enough to do anything about it,
someone who will love me for the way
i trained myself to
write my Rs in all caps, always
just to seem cool.
i’ll want to care about
what you ate for breakfast,
or bought on sale at that new place downtown,
or what reddit thread you’re currently
two hundred and eighty-three comments deep into reading (okay,
i’ve never cared about that and that’s probably not going to change).
i’m not tired yet,
of the gamble of romance; of
the seat on the train
across the aisle from poetry; of
the curious, fascinating, strange beast that is
whatever comes before love.