2017
I Know Nothing About Romance
Ilana Goldstein
I would just like to say congratulations on your
win tonight. We knew
it would happen. I don't know much
about basketball but you played a lot
so I suppose you're one of the best
players.
Partly because you seem pretty
cool. The slightly floppy brunette
hair and half-court hip swings
help. So, I think it would be mighty dandy
if we could go for coffee in the next
hour or so to prolong your stay (I don't drink
coffee but there's a first time
for everything).
No one ever seems to care
about the music we make
so it was really quite charming
of you to thank us through slightly-awkward,
slightly-smooth moves of your extra-long
limbs, a dance that you might call
hip-hop-- shit,
I shouldn't be that blunt and shit,
I shouldn't curse in front of new people--
to acknowledge the band's existence
as legitimate and to say,
even if it wasn't so loudly,
thank you.
Damn, I'm so glad it was you.
Crap, I shouldn't say that. I'm sorry but
this always happens when I meet new people and I'm too damn
excited, so I'm trying to sew together somewhat-coherent
sentences not to butcher
the one and only time I
can tell you that I
maybe, kind of
love you.
Partly because soon enough, you'll be gone
on a six hour journey back to the cobblestone streets
of Boston and I will have mourned
the loss of another man, once fictionalized
in every Austen sense of the word, to serve opposite me
as the oh-so- awkwardly-charming romantic lead.
I don't need you
to love me tomorrow but simply
for a breezy Saturday afternoon. Let's pretend
you could stay for an hour longer
to finish some homework for class. You
would agree that it's always better
to read poetry with a friend, so would you keep
Frank O'Hara and me company, over a
cup of coffee? Because
having coffee with you
is even more fun than imagining us exploring a bookstore's crevices,
or being stuck in a New York-Nora Ephron romantic comedy,
partly because then we can stare out into the world without looking too lonely,
partly because we'll be enchanted, storytelling for hours,
partly because of your love for our laughter, partly because of my love for your dimples.
I look
at you and I've made up my mind that I'll start paying attention to basketball.
I Know Nothing About Theater
Sarah Scally
I am officially singing your praises on
opening night. I knew
it would be great. I’ve never been a theater kid
but I know you well enough to see how much you practiced
even if you try to assure me your not one of the best
actors.
You are smiling and seem pretty
cool and I can’t tell if we’re flirting
because this isn’t our first conversation
and it won’t be our last
because even though I’m not invites to Denny’s
next week we’ll go to get coffee
and you’ll smile and drink ice tea
making fun of my caffeine addiction all while
contributing to it
But right now you seem like a rockstar
Dorothy in the Wiz and holding the puppy
way after curtain call
certainly did break the ice
from my more than awkward admiration of your acting skills
even as you claim that you messed up
every dance number.
Frankly I don’t give a shit,
I couldn't tell the difference between a four step and a jazz square--
I don’t spend my time looking at actors feet
so I can tell you that dancing might be better the next night
and you’ll say softly,
thank you.
Damn, I'm so glad it’s you.
After years of side characters and ensemble we got to celebrate
this win. This never happens and I'm too damn
happy for you, so I won’t bother ruining
this moment
saying that I might
kind of
love you.
Partly because it’s senior year and, you'll be at Yale
on a three hour car ride away from my top pick
of school and partly because
what a cliché I’ve become.
A queer crush on a friend in senior year
even if I’ve never seen myself as a romantic lead.
And also I know
you won’t to love me tomorrow
because midnight is fast approaching
and the high of opening night is dwindling. So I’ll pretend
I wasn’t flirting because who knows if you
realized. And we’ll maintain our
place as friends
and I’ll mourn the time I missed while you were
rehearsal because
maybe that extra time
would give me the confidence to kiss you as we walk home,
even if we’re not in a rom-com,
partly because I’ll miss you next year,
partly because I’ll always wonder if you were flirting back,
partly because I’ll never know.
But next year in college
I think I’ll join the theater group
because I wasted my chance with you.