my missing lavender moonlight

there’s a pink—no—lavender bag missing in a women’s dormitory.
it’s my bag, and i’ll tell you two stories.

story one. there’s a friend of a friend,
and he lends-
me a hand every so often.
we walk when it isn’t rainy, talk-
when i’m not sad, and he isn’t all that bad.
the friend of a friend, now, has another friend: a girl.
so, let’s twirl-
this story up a bit.

i’m missing my friend’s friend, so, i send-
him a little note. i say i want to see him,
but the night’s out and the lights-
are dim. we don’t talk when it’s dark.
my shoulders are slumpy. i’m beat,
so, he agrees to meet.

he isn’t home, of course. home-
was a place far off into the east.
that’s the least-
of your worries, though. listen.
he’s in the women’s dormitory. with the girl,
or so i tell you. believe me. unfurl-
the plot with me. i set off.

there’s the archway. a chandelier hangs low,
and i wait for christmas, so i can call it waldo’s mistletoe.
that’s irrelevant. walk. the entrance is close, and the door-
closed. i call him.
i wait seven minutes. it’s drizzling a little.
my shoulders are wet, heart brittle,
but there he is. watch the light pour:
this lore isn’t over yet.

they let me in; him, and his friend. we walk-
around inside, but my shoulders still slump.
we dump-
the bag in an empty study lounge, and-
there it sits. you see it, don’t you?
dumped, yet placed with such care, as if waldo-
stared at it until it was okay. dumped, and yet-
at peace. please, believe me.

story two. i had another friend. had.
i hold her close,
so perhaps she isn’t a friend. we walk in the rain,
sit by the piano from note one til’ the refrain,
and we talk in the dark. don’t be snarky, now.
don’t get ideas. we were friends.
we hold hands, and watch planes come in to land-
on a little screen.

my friend and i, we’re both somewhat alone, so,
she picks up the phone, and there i am. same raindrops,
same archway. i stay-
for seven eternities.
the door opens, but there’s no flood.
we meet.

now, now, the plot gets thick. blow out-
the candlewick. the moon’s about to go away.
my shoulders slump. we run from light.
nobody can see us, after all.
nothing’s new. there’s a few-
things wrong with the both of us,
still. will-
we be okay?
wear the lavender hat. wear the pink bow.
no. we’re friends, you see?

she’s not the same as the other friend’s friend.
she blares sirens when there’s a spark, chases-
tyrants away. stark-
contrast, right?

she shoves the bag off my shoulder, and runs off.
i know not what happens next.

this friend, the friend’s friend, his friend who’s a girl, and you, and i:
we sit down together. you brew us cups—no—mugs of tea.
the table’s round, and we’re going in circles. make up your mind.
who killed waldo?