The Other Guy

Mostly, I think of him,
the other guy,
who was the same age as I am now,
and so, presumably,
had been around enough to know, like I do,
that narcissism can be charming,
but only at first.

You said to me once,
after a date you described as "just fine,"
like most dates which are not terrible or wonderful,
but just fine, like most Chinese food delivered,
that "he didn't ask very many questions."
I knew then that your idea of friendship
was not conversation,
but talking and then not-talking.
It it still like that when I call you.
You talk while I wait.
I talk while you wait.
Then we hang up.