Selfish

We went out for ice cream
because
it's easier than staying in that cramped apartment
and staring at you
with nothing to say
but "How was class Honey?"
"Did you have a good day?"
"What did you have for lunch?"
You can't claim it isn't tiresome
to look at me
knowing I'm somewhere else.
I'd rather be anyplace else
than here.
Not being able to remember that one time
in St. Augustine where we got along.

I'll tell you what I do remember,
I remember wanting to sleep,
you were on my shoulder,
your drool decorating my chest in droplets.
I remember making a sandwich,
the joy of almost forgetting to cut off the crust,
because you always want a piece of what I have.
Most of all I remember the way the setting sun looked
reflected in your dollar store sunglasses
as you drove away after our second date.
You've always been at your most beautiful
when you were leaving
and now it appears you plan to stay a while.

You're being unfair.