Tony Baloney
I ran into Tony yesterday.
He must’ve been on his break
when he spotted me in line at the food court.
We sat and talked over lunch.
It had been a while.
He asked if I was married yet.
I said “no” with a smile,
and I knew he was talking about you
when he asked if I was still with “Maria.”
I answered “no” again,
subtly dismissing
the notion we’d ever been
anything more than friends
(as much a lie as it was the truth).
He went on about what a nice girl you are,
and it ached inside
not being able to show
how much I agree.
He was the second person to mistake us for a couple
in just the past few days;
then I wondered if a third
would pose the same query,
leaving me the role of Peter to your Christ.
If so, I promise I’ll deny you thrice,
and keep our secret safe
until it finally fades,
until even I’ve forgotten all about it.
But until that day comes,
I’ll think that if we ever see each other,
that if we ever really talk again,
there are still some things I’d like to say to you.
