Boyfriend

Boyfriend

I think about the possibility of our meeting.

What would we talk about?  He is slow at giving

me details about his life and I don’t understand

what that means.  Of course, I do the same, only

in my poems do I feel comfortable enough to talk.

I’d like to see him smile, brush my arm

against his and feel a tingle, listen to him laugh.

I’ll probably never go see him, it’s too far, my medication

might be difficult to get, and I don’t have the money.

He’ll never come here.  But I do wish someday

he would get the nerve to start calling me his, boyfriend.