A Tapas Date

I have no problem humming Jack Johnson,

On any stupid day in October.

No graze on my thigh.

No reason for me to cry.

I have no problem with that slice of silence,

After a dizzy kiss from a stranger’s lips.

A little flutter in my lungs.

A little numbness in my gums.

I have no problems eating leftovers for one,

Tossing the last two fries from my plate.

Having to tell myself I am okay.

Having to believe what I say.

I will have no problem ordering tapas,

Telling the girls about the sidewalk rule.

Smiling when he takes your place.

Smiling when I kiss his face.

I will have no problem letting you dissolve,

After manslaughter priced at a plane ticket.

I will mourn like gunfire in my skin.

I will never, ever, ask how you’ve been.