Hitch

You have been talking for an hour now
and I suffer you patients more than any
other could.
I suffer because I am
the only person who understands.

After all these years you finally mention this
fact to me
and I am keenly aware
of the consolation prize for being a decent man.

I don’t flinch
I never did
I don’t say much
I’m not supposed to.

My role, tonight, is to listen to stories of
divorced father of one
interested in your
Hair,
Eyes,
& Breasts;

The smile and laughter of your body,

while I die slowly
syllable
by
syllable

because my heart resides westward
and I’m stuck in this fucking city,
this fucking station
having decided to miss the train with you.
For you.

And it’s lucky, I guess,
that my heart is just small enough
not to choke on when I swallow.