A Blue That Looks Like Grey

He lives on the second floor

Of an old two-story building

On the west side

The windows are blacked out

And the apartment is made up

Of only three rooms

Bath, bed, and a living room

--No furniture anywhere

The living room is lit

By the glow

Of three over-sized

Computer monitors

And Christmas lights

Strung up and hung up

From ill-placed nails

In every wall

A mattress sits on a diagonal

On the floor of the bedroom

And despite how dreary

The whole set-up should be

It feels sort of…cool

Like something between

A bunker

And an underground club

So exclusive

Only two people get to see it

At a time

He only half-pays attention to you

As you sit on the floor

Wondering if you would still be here

If he was any other man

His hair falls in his face

And you’ve never seen him wearing

Anything

But sweat pants

And a white tank

That fits him better

Than any article of clothing

Has ever fit anyone

He’s barefoot

And biting his lower lip

As he looks at a design

On one of the giant monitors

That appears to be for…

Some kind of logo?

A project?
An advertising project?

You have no idea

But you don’t ask

You’re nervous

Something about him

Makes you nervous

Even though he’s always been friendly

And even though he’s the one

Who invited you over

Looking at him

You feel as though you’re witnessing

Something special

He doesn’t seem embarrassed

About his state of living

On the contrary

His lack of embarrassment

Makes you feel embarrassed

For wondering

Why he’s not embarrassed

You tuck your legs

Under your chin

Like a girl on a quad

Listening to some handsome senior

Play songs on an acoustic guitar

When really

There’s just silence
And the occasional clatter of keys

And the click of a mouse

He’s changing a section of the design

From grey to a blue that looks like grey

And then back to grey

He can’t decide

When he’s done doing

Whatever it is he’s doing

He’ll take you to the mattress

And you’ll have the best sex of your life

Partly because he’s so attractive

He only has to try half as hard

As a normal person

To get you turned on

And partly because he teaches yoga

Because—of course he does

And the whole time

The only thing

You keep wondering is—

Is this a joke?

Is this some sort of prank?

How is someone this stunning

Interested in me?

And then you realize—

Wait a minute

You’re the one with the good job

And the nice house

On the east side of town

With a new car

And furniture in every room

So why does being with him

Make you feel lucky?

Shouldn’t it be

The other way

Around?

But you don’t allow yourself

To think this

For very long

For fear that he’ll be able

To look into your eyes

And see

What you’re thinking

So instead, you bury your face

Into what you imagine is an unwashed pillow

On the mattress

And pretend to fall asleep

While he creeps back to the monitors

So he can continue choosing

Between grey

And a blue

That looks

Like grey