This poem is written about the same Person A which inspired "I Am Not Your" and comes from a later moment in that couple of months of relationship.
She told me, "I wish I was tired of you," one day when we were having an otherwise nice time. And I think that sums up our relationship rather nicely. We were two screwed up individuals who kind of recognized comraderie in each other but sometimes it hard to love someone outside of yourself when you are trying to figure out who you are.
I think if I had not been such a colossal idiot, I would have realized that her, "I wish I was tired of you," was her telling me she loved me. Not romantically. Maybe romantically, I don't know. Just love. It's nice to not necessarily label it. Years later, looking back at 2003 Doug and A, I kind of wish both of them were in a place where they could have just hung out and not draped so much damned drama over everything. Just like, played board games or some shit.
At the time, I wrote this poem not to really spite her but more to try and figure us out. The central imagery is pretty much the setting of the conversation.
"I want to be tired of you..." (black)car & black(night) 75mph 2hrs 15min prior midnight with thick down street rhythms asphalt: (yellow) like a blur all the white way home. every single second gone, cannot stand to be lost inside this need to belong. "...but I cannot" time drunk on the fog gently hazed and not a star to breathe deep into our lungs. "I will leave..." music new beat catches: laser light shattering click thump sliding gently along into ears of listening no one. trees melt (their) dark and die seconds after birth our green vision and no one looks, nor can name anything, anymore, besides in general terms of generic (quality). "...if you want me to..." sliver of sound and both heads turn, gone before... into the road behind... "What do you want me to say?" and did i have any notion how to answer that question? it barely had a question mark, more a shout. 75mph for 1hr 27min, deaccelerate to a mere 74 to pass midnight as though it was a red faced little child and we all had (grey) died. with a heart beat like forever, (we know) the day is over and we can both feel the unquestioned lips lying open and waiting to speak. "I will back away." did i mean it? what can one say? what can one need? silence creeps up and the clock straight up strikes as though faced with just as much life as it can handle... just like everyone. tired as the day could possible be long and the road still goes on, all the way home...