Darren and me
are sitting in his apartment
drinking rum and soda.
The glow of the screen
illuminates
our tired faces
as we gaze upon our heroes.
“Clooney’s the MAN,” I say
and Darren nods a little sadly.
“I could be like him.”
“Naw, bro,” says Darren.
“You gotta get yourself a car.”
“Hugh Jackman, man,” I say.
“Hugh Jackman,” he avers,
and we are quiet.
* * *
Darren and me
we stay up talking
eating hazel nuts and almonds
with the clarity that only comes
from sipping vodka
after hours.
“Dude, I gotta find myself a girl,” I say,
“I wasn’t made to live this bachelor kinda life.”
Darren says, “Well, what about Rebekah?”
“Bekah ain’t interested in a guy like me.”
“B. S.!” He points a shaky shot glass at me.
“You should see the way she looks at you.”
“Ain’t no one ever looked at me that way.”
“Have you ever even asked a girl out?”
“Dude, not if I really liked them.”
Darren sits back on the couch
and pours us both another glass of Evan Williams.
On the TV, Louie’s eating dinner in Manhattan.
Chicken rolls, lamb pasanda, flatbread.
I grab another handful of pretzels.
“What about you?” I ask him.
“When you gonna find somebody?”
“Some day, maybe.”
He never takes his eyes off the screen.
“Romance is great and all, but man,
I got so many dreams.”
Sketches By Boze 