Third Wheel

I was invited to an ideal girls' night out An idea suggested to me by the girl with flirtatious eyebrows but her pure spirit told me to bring a friend This friend was to be young handsome and beefy with arms of candy to suck on during horror movies This suggestive suggestion brought me to my knees And so that night I sat at home pondering my past relationships Over burnt photographs, stale coffees, and half eaten cigarettes that sit behind my typewriter acting like a one night stand I only hope to receive every week I was reading love poems and feeling nostalgic over relationships I never had Like teenage girls crying over romance films waiting for their "time" to come For their prince to come and rock their premarital beds with exquisite agony I sat reading the tender kisses and daisies left on doorsteps as reminders of something never had but only lusted by the lonely I read melodramas and pretended the devil eating donuts on my right shoulder wasn't shouting obscenities as fiction became a little stranger than reality More preferred I paid attention to the angel on my left with a sinister smile That said love was just like a glass half filled or just empty And when the time came I gathered courage and took flight from the window to a hipster cafe that poets are drawn to like flies to blood Swatting away the occasional half wits that only wanted to debate sex and Shakespeare I found myself drawn to a mysterious woman with a lazy eye She drank wine out of a flask that smelt of coconut and claimed she knew every word that would slip out of the next lap top begging for attention But I was interrupted by a licentious woman who slipped me a wink on a napkin that suggested I head for the hills and find refuge in a warm bed, Sending me out the door as the blood bath of starving artists began to fight for an open mic The next night I arrive to the outing and watch the burn outs choke on succulent cigarettes like nothing else in life could provide such hunger And there the flirtatious girl arrived with her hulk of meat and his eyes were glazed to the movie screen Meanwhile my angel and devil chant together like ancient monks performing a spell, "Third Wheel begone! Third Wheel begone!" And I sink into the chair of chewed bubble gum and could've been make out sessions And as the teenagers face each other, us third wheelers run for the arcades hoping the screens of video games might suck us in and maybe that love will be an easy battle won Such hope doesn't spring from teenagers but the screens themselves that portray life as a moving picture rather than a moving story Because the music draws you to it but the story screws you in And us third wheelers are helpless to just watch everything that could've been us on the silver screen Living a life that only exist in our drunk dreams of time and memories and nostalgic poetry