It’s My Birthday
There's a version of you hanging there over the back of a chair
“It’s my birthday today.” Happy birthday. I hope you have a good day. “No you don’t, you don’t care anymore.”
and another dangling from shower curtain in the upstairs bathroom
“I’m seeing someone.” Me too. “I wish I didn’t know that.” Me too. “What if one of us was lying?” One of us always is. “What makes you say that?” It’s true. “Are you really seeing someone?” Are you? “Maybe it’s better if we don’t talk for a while.” Or ever again. “Why?” What’s the point? “Because I love you.” Then why are you seeing someone else? “Why are you?
and, of course, various unseen you loom in hanger closets your code-switching fashion in a stream of shedding over these years clues of you stir re-discovery never tiring of shaping the ghosts from floating shadows return anew like the fresh morning aroma absorbing me into surrender the wanting like a stubborn weed in after-winter glow
“Just know that I love you.” I don’t know that. “How could you not know that?” How could I? “It’s been so long.” It’s been long with her too, and I bet you tell her you love her. “I can’t stand that you’re jealous.” Why would I not be jealous? “This is why I can’t do this.” We aren’t doing anything.
-----Dan Sicoli What do you want? I miss you. I miss you. “I just wanted you to know it’s my birthday and our song came on at the bar.” No, you just want to know that I’m here. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk anymore.” You already said that, but if that’s what you want, then I agree. “Is that what you want?” Yes, because you don’t know what you want. Maybe it’s her, maybe not, but if you really did love me you would know after all this time. “Be nice to me, it’s my birthday.” Happy birthday. ---Brittany Ackerman