there are many romantic rooms

we walk into.

We might stay there, for weeks, months, years

and I prefer the empty one

to the room filled with gas,

emotions, or arguing.

Few things can send a man to the madhouse

without his permission—

a woman doesn’t need your permission

Living in an apartment complex, has given me a complex

I listen to the conversation downstairs,

and I don’t want to

“Eat your fuckin food!” She screams.

“No.”

“Don’t talk to me like that. Don’t walk away from me—I’m talking to you!”

After two hours, somebody calls the police

I can hear the man’s deep voice, explaining to the officer

that he didn’t hit her,

but the policeman says, “Sorry, I’ll have to take you in, anyway.”

I hear the relief in his voice without hearing it

I think her screaming is over, but she starts up again

Is she on the phone?

Women won’t tell you who they are—you have to find out for yourself

and it’s best to know her, before knowing her

there are kind women

and busy women

women who play instruments, and sing

competitive women, who never stop competing

women who want to be mothers

and those who want to get married

desperate women,

lonely women,

and then, there is the woman, who wants to do something with you

and she isn’t a sex crazed nymphomaniac

She sees something, there

in the same way, you walk into rooms, and look

If you’re good at this

you will spot her, in the mob of suicide pills

If you can’t tell the difference,

you will learn to kill crabs, or stand with your butt against the wall in prison

So, when your friend asks you, “Why aren’t you in a relationship yet?”

Just tell him, “I haven’t found her, but I’m looking.”