Bestfriend Envy

Title from the Brunettes (MySpace)



Figuring this out is like

solving a Rubik's Cube blind-folded,

or trying to figure out how Narcissus didn't know he was looking

at his own reflection,

or looking for my pen twenty seconds after I had put it down

somewhere to operate the microwave.



How is it that we can sit in the food court on our lunch break,

looking like we'd just rolled out of bed at the crack of eleven,

talking about why Captain America's untimely demise

(which is actually very timely considering he was,

like, 80 and still fought crime)

was a dumb thing for the news to go nuts about,

and why John Constantine's eventual demise

should have more cultural relevance,

and eating enough cheese fries to make the fat kid from high school,

Johnny Haywood,

say, "Ew! That's way too many cheese fries!"

and yet you still have cute Amanda with the auburn hair

and the glasses walk up to our table,

screech a metal chair across the stone tile flooring,

sit down next to you with an expression like a

first grader at story time,

and ask for your phone number?