if only Diderot

I walk down a busy metropolitan street
it’s night and the lights from the shops
are burning on
the night
showing the people the
bars
clubs
restaurants
clothing stores
closed stores
the lights show everyone’s faces
not their real faces but
the faces they want us
to see
to believe

the light lights the night but not as bright
as the sun would
You can’t tell if that man’s suit
is black
or
dark blue
You can’t tell if the woman walking
toward you from 15 feet is
22 or
32 or
42 etc.
the faded women hide their
years
under the part-time bulbs
because they feel
rushed
in
life
and the men realize they are not
ten years younger
twenty years too
late

I see it all the time and say to myself
I
will
soon
be
joining their ranks

why do they do this?
for friends?
for fun?
for love?

if love can be everlasting
hypothetically
can you find it in those
already in
disguise?

the women I’ve gone with
were terrible lovers
terrible companions
terrible fucks
but I don’t go with women
as often as
you
but
I’ve gone with all the women you’ve gone with
I did that as soon as
you
started
bitching
about her
women, this concerns you and your
men too

I
hear it all
see it all
feel it all
all the time

I don’t have to complain about all the
bad dates I’ve gone
on
simply because
you’ve gone
on
all the bad dates
for me

those who believe they’ve found
their soulmate
just haven’t lived long enough to
find a better one

Diderot says,

“oh snap!”

and gives me a
high-five

Of course I believe true love is
possible
but that is a belief that is always
under
fire
but if history has taught us one thing
which
has
never
not applied
it was this,

“if only…”

I continue walking down the half-heartedly lit
street
past all the
bars
clubs
restaurants
clothing stores
closed stores
the lights on everyone’s faces
the faces they want us
to see
to believe

and sullenly wish upon a lightbulb

that all of it could
fool me.

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