Wrote political pieces, stories, novels even.

Was wildly misunderstood, when not ignored, by critics.

Wrote a list of culturally hagiographized thinkers who’d killed themselves.

Detailed how they killed themselves. How they left families, peers, and pals in the lurch. To clean up their mess.

Scathingly criticized those others unanimously dick-rode.

Got so wet—delirious—listening to her.

This is me.

You’re writing about me!

Who I’ll be.

Who, in past iterations, I was.

The wildly misunderstood genius the canon overlooked.

I couldn’t even respond in words.

Just blushed, went coy, and repeated Bae, and What is happening? while going googly-eyed at her.

Started imagining scenarios in which I’d propose to her.

Considered proposing to her, then and there.

But no.

The wounds were still open / possibly infected.

Almost back to her spot.

Two blocks away, and she still hadn’t initiated a parting of ways.

Z was out of town, I realized, and she was considering letting me back inside.

She wanted it, but was still undecided, I decided.

We were through the gate of her front yard before she showed any indication of reticence.

She lingered on the path, looking away and hiding behind the wall of hair she let get unstuck from behind her ear.

I was so erect, I was ignoring all hints.

Realizing this—that I was going to ignore all hints—she sat on the top of three steps leading up to her stoop.

Lil pup started sniffing yard plants.

Listened suddenly and intently for squirrels, but there were none. Just some dried leaves dislodged by a fluke gust.

I sat next to her on the stoop, bringing up something to distract her from the fact I was still there, sitting next to her on the stoop.

That I had no intention of leaving, unless explicitly commanded to.

Lil pup perked up his ears again and did this weird, vaguely marine-animal-like contortion, chasing what he thought was prey but was just his tail.

Ex bae and I both turned. Giggled.

Distracting me from whatever I’d been saying.

But I didn’t try to pick it back up.

I sat still.

Let my legs spread naturally.

Leaned back and rested my hands on the porch, like I was readying myself to be blown.

“What’s happening, bae?” I said.

“This really what you want?” I said.

“You know it will be different this time, don’t you?” I said, my voice cracking.

“What do you mean, this time?” she said, either clueless or doing well to feign cluelessness.

Her eyes were glistening, with either sadness or happiness at being here, with me, who’d been more consistently inside her than any other person ever.

Right before I was about to say something I’d regret, that she wouldn’t want to deal with having to respond to, she said “So what about the new Drake, huh?” with surprising authority.

“‘Jaded,’” I said. “‘Jaded’ is the one.”