Macey's run

It's amazing how many things can make you sad.

He used to wear a black leather jacket. It was winter when we dated, a good, heavy, snowy winter and so when we got in the car, you could smell the wet leather. It's a smell I always associate with him--and I smelled it tonight. I was sure of it.

I went to Macey's tonight, saw The Macey's Guy. Still didn't talk to him. I stood staring at the Christmas candy, trying to decide if I wanted to. I did want to. But he--a different he this time, than TMG or he-of-the-black-leather-jacket--he worked at the local grocery store. I would go there to run into him. He'd bag my groceries and walk me out to my car so that we could talk.

It doesn't bother me that I'm single. What bothers me is that my romantic experiences total two and both of those happened nearly five years ago. I listen to people list off the number of people they've dated--I listen to my now-engaged sister list off the number of people she's dated--and I want to know why everything stopped. Why suddenly

Maybe it wasn't so sudden. Maybe it was the one fluke of my life, that two guys were attracted to me in a one-year period. Maybe this is the way it's supposed to be. I've never been able to believe people who are so sure I'll get married soon--or ever. Because why would everything suddenly change? So here's the plan: I'm going to live my life this way, alone. And you can come say hi to me and I'll be happy to see you. But I won't expect you to stick around. I'll understand when you say good-bye, or even when you just stop calling because it seems the nicer way to do things. And I'll keep my pictures of you, maybe on the wall, maybe in the box under my bed. Your nose or long fingers or gold-red hair will find their way into poems, but you'll never really exist for me again, just as a composite that I keep around, that "you" I write poems about and am addressing now. And someday that "you" will leave too.

Good night.