maybe maybe not

i admit it. i am weak and lonely and really, a traitor to the feminist movement.

i should be calling what happened this summer the triumph of infatuation, a moment of insanity-long moments of insanity, something that in the end was as inconsequential as it was doomed to be brief.

and maybe in time i will be able to do that. i don't like speaking with finality about these things. for all i know i might end up thinking of this with fondness or with amazement at my phenomenal capacity for stupidity.

maybe, in time.

and maybe i might just quit referring to you here, as i have chosen another venue for those thoughts, those besttwoweeksever . maybe you'll see it, maybe you won't.

maybe. you never know.

and maybe, who knows, tomorrow i might just decide to throw hesitation to the wind like i have caution before it, and go out with them who have-seriously- made themselves available for my unwilling self.

maybe. tomorrow perhaps.

and maybe the alcohol and the dancing and the company of friends will finally be able dull the memories of nights spent with just one person, someone with whom conversations and quiet moments were alcohol and dancing really.

maybe. we'll see.

and maybe one of these days when i check a mutual friend's friendster page-of all things- and see a picture with you and your smile, your impish thirty year old smile, i won't find myself smiling back like an idiot and going back to that page for a glimpse every now and then.

maybe. soon.

but not right now.

for now i allow myself to wallow still. to remember and smile and even cry. the beginning and the in betweens and the end. the smiles and the secrets and the sadness. i read neruda's "tonight i can write" and the other sad poets whisper your name and call to mind your memories and i remember and quietly, quietly, so you won't hear, but i hope you'll care to know,

miss you.

with this i will try hard to make the last of you. for sure you are shaking your head at the period of time it is taking me to quit remembering you like the addiction you were.

but for now,

i miss you.