There are these times
when I resent being the left-out.
When, where you are isn't where I am
and where we are won't happen right away.
I try to engage you from a distance
but you send those signals,
the Not Now and the Later.
I have engineered my own hurt feelings.
I sometimes stew
in jealousy of the things you know
and the people you give them to.
I miss the act of knowing something,
something particular, particularly well,
and having people somewhere seek me for knowing it.
It is an excuse to feel small.
So no, I don't want to talk about this later.
I don't want to wait till you get home.
I don't want to be the one always waiting,
the waiter with dinner.