On a bus in Chicago

A Poem by Dulcie

a poem about the future

I picture seeing her on a bus in Chicago

three years after we stop talking and
she’ll be saying “woah
she looks prettier than she used to I
don’t know I didn’t think that was possible but
I think more quiet and I bet she still stares at
The History Channel all alone in her bed and
still pulls her hood up at the bar and insists
on bottled beer when she’s upset and
everyone looks at her intrigued and I bet she still
doesn’t notice and I think her eyes got
bluer and is bluer a word whatever they’re the bluest
I remember she told me she loves me yeah I
remember perfectly it was on an old couch in
my basement and she didn’t take it back she
just stared at me”
and you’ll get off of a bus in Chicago
adverting your damp eyes
and I’ll see you and I’ll think
“I bet she still buys weed before she pays her heating bill.”

My friend Jimmy is a history major.
Because his name is Jimmy you will all think I’m making him up like
“that’s not very creative
that can’t be true”
He started failing out of all his classes because
he didn’t want to read his history books anymore
he told me he didn’t want to read about all of the bad things
everyone does to each other
that even 4 centuries ago people sucked.
Maybe 3 years from now I’ll see jimmy on a bus in Chicago
making as little history as possible
I would too I don’t need some college kid
3 centuries from now reading about all the bad things I do.
(what about all the bad things she did to me who is gonna write all of that down. Someone better plant more threes quick we need paper I need a s**t ton of paper. maybe that is why the world went all electronic. they ran out of paper to fit all of the bad things people do. Here is a 934729GB hard drive to sum up your s****y relationship merry god damn christmas)
Or maybe ill see you.
I’ll see you and your curly hair on a bus in Chicago
three years after we stop talking.
(It’s funny to me because if you read this you would look at me with sad eyes and ask why won’t we be talking? but you love me and I can’t tell you how bad the world is you have to find out for yourself.)
I’ll still think about you then
I’ll still think about you when I’m dead
when all my history is made and
all of my wrongs are written down in a text book for
Jimmy junior junior junior to read
on a hover-bus in Chicago and he
will die inside like his great great grandfather but
his friends will read it and think
“woah that’s way too creative
that can’t be true.”
Even 4 centuries from now people suck.