January 12, 2009
By Jada Chin, Voorhees, NJ

I continue to count the numbers
The arithmetic of our relationship
I remember we used to rearrange the furniture in your apartment
You talked about politics as you drank cheap beer
I never understood
A pile of bills stacked onto your wooden kitchen table
You forgot to pay your bills
I heard the tea kettle whistle louder and louder
While we kissed, I felt your unshaven chin rub against my pink cheeks
After we sinned, I told you to pray
You had a picture of Nietzsche on your wall
Turn me in
Turn me in

In your kitchen, the tile floors were cracked
We would measure the teaspoons of sugar that went into our cups
Your poured the steaming water and we made some coffee
This was your favorite smell

We faced each other silently
Sitting on your old Victorian furniture
Sun peaking into the window and onto us
And when your cold fingers touched me, you told me I had soft hands

I read the book of blessings
As you destroyed your mind with television
Our lips met again and our skin touched
Four eyed monster with two backs

I stopped counting
I stopped caring

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