6'4 tall and thin / by Megan DiBello

If he could be my tom hanks my john cusack then by golly I would say yes over a latte on ice skates walking through Central Park on a stage in front of a mic watching a movie in a theatre relaxing on a couch waking up to his eyes we can grow old like dial up log in facebook message me run downtown to me catch the last train to me believe in me and sing to me by the staff the bars the notes to me be my bass clef when I am feeling treble clef and you fill my belly when hunger for your body and not for the digestible if you can pun with me baby you are my belly ache of laughter an overnight sleep over to the academy the Grammy that plays records backwards and can't make you sleep the good looking cabbage patch kid the invisible splinter to a thorn bush you would burn down if it laid an atom on my finger to a partner to dance my arms and let me tell you the direction we play tango we play salsa we play on the beach with transparent waves and I wear you like sand in my hair at the end of every curl and you give me a piggyback ride and we race back to where we wrote our names in the sand and all I ever wanted to be where the water sets into your letters and I wish I was grammar to your life maybe even add some punctuation or keep you close through paperback or hardcover times and even still the binding and be the bare sewing needling to be undone i still remember what book store I found you in what aisle I saw you sneeze in before I said God I have this feeling that you only feel when you kiss someone when you wake up in the morning the linger of their lips lay next to you like a good Chapstick like expensive red lipstick he is there with his eye already awake on mine.


I've never met him. No really. He exists in a pre wed expectation. His show is already on syndication. This isn't the pilot. This isn't the drop of his mixtape. His album release. His red carpet moment. His Warhol 15 minutes of fame. His viral video moment. His billboard rolling stone top 10. This isn't his 5th week at number 1. This isn't his first raise. His big break by executives. His endorsement with Nike. His facebook and Twitter verified followers. His weekly countdown on why he is the greatest on buzzfeed. His image of the week on Instagram. His favorite restaurant with the burger he loves on the thrillist top 10. His five star yelp review. His Google ranking to number one. The ten dollar cost of his name SEO, no, close but only by one vowel. His catching the trains on time, n to the 4/5 just missed the next train with w sick passenger. He becomes the mayor of 36th avenue in queens and doesn't ask for a universal key, but a civil coffee in the morning. He is sponsored by Brooklyn lager iPa and American spirits. He puts the skinny in skinny jeans. He gets drunk and asks me the same question twice thrice. He can build plan and plot a house. He is every funny cat video on his feed every amazing spectacle he will ever see. Tagged post to be thought of kind. Shows friendship but is scared to put in the first hand. Recalls his past with nightmares about his future, can't call it over unless the paperwork is complete.

The eight months started as helping a friend. Someone I knew less than a year ago. Let's call it 9 months. And yes, he had a child in that time. Forgotten all about me. Maybe mused on one of my song lyrics I had sent him. Rarely people come back after you leave them. My mother says never go back, things end for a reason. A mother a friend literally everyone was telling me the same things. It wasn't something I hadn't heard before, especially from her.  He could lie better than lying down.