that guy I knew and just don't want to know anymore
we met over thirty years ago
when he said he only wanted to date black women
I said okay lets be friends
now he tells me his eleven year relationship
with his girlfriend was way over. she kicked him
out without reason. i'm suspicious, of, without reason.
I say that's sad. she was a nice woman.
he says she's a sex addict
I remain silent. this is too much information.
he tells me she would run into his room and jump on top.
I nod my head and let him talk.
he tells me he kept the house clean.
she went to work. she is a doctor and he pities her patients.
he says he cleaned the toilet even when she says he didn't.
I begin to get nervous. I wonder why he's giving me all this information.
he asks me if i've been tested for aids? do I own my own home?
who lives with me? what about that guy you use to see?
I say I enjoy living alone.
he wants my cell phone number.
I give it to him knowing I never turn the damn thing on.
he tells the people standing around us, irene is a poet, we go way back.
I think what the fuck is he talking about.
this is my 12 step meeting and he's breaking my anonymity.
now everyone knows I write about them. everyone knows
I lived with an alcoholic, a man who was good to me
until he found the pipe. alcohol was nothing in comparison.
I tell him i'll see him later. meaning. get lost.
I tell him I got rid of my yellow squeaky rubber ducky
i'm not playing those water boarding games.
he calls me
I don't answer
he stares at me during this morning's meeting.
I'm wearing my t shirt that says, everything will be amazing.
I leave the meeting early.
he runs after me. he says, why don't you answer my calls.
I walk to the coffee shop before going home.
I tell myself I need to write a love poem.
Instead I watch an elvis presley movie
nothing happening there either
Irene Koronas is a painter and a poet. She has two poetry books, many chapbooks, and lots of handmade artists books.