He’s a Good Man, Go Back to Thinking About Him the Way You Used To
We take the water taxi to Chinatown and roast a whole duck in the streets and sometimes I, too, want to be roasted by my peers on the water taxi headed to Chinatown to roast a whole duck in the streets while I am being roasted on the water taxi to Chinatown. The infinite causality of the situation on the water taxi to Chinatown is painful but necessary and continual.
We are still on the upper deck of the water taxi because it is raining. You said, “Everything is wet!” and were so excited and I said “Uggghghghg” with my face because my voice was small and resting.
I make a confession: I want to jump off the water taxi.
You say, “No, you will be hurt.”
I say, I want to feel the water.
“It’s raining.”
We get off of the water taxi and walk down Cermak. I tell you my house is down the way and you seem interested in my house. You ask questions, but I care as much as you do, so my answers are monosyllabic and curt. I am reminding myself to change my WiFi password soon. I think I will take the bus home after this.
I spend most of my time on trains. When I see a train, I get my fare ready. We see the train and you smile at the nervous excitement of my hand reaching into my wallet. I think you kissed me there but I am unsure.
“They made a movie here.”
Which one?
“I don’t know, but I feel like they did.”
I laugh, but you are serious.
I wish my mouth tasted like your mouth but with a little less pot and a little more MSG. I am better at discerning when you are saying that you like me and telling me that you like me. I am reserved and bitter. I don’t give you anything. I am going to buy you the best roast duck, though.
Your elbow has been hitting my side for the past two blocks. The restaurant has ducks hanging in the window and you are nervous. You eat less than I do, normally. I pat my face and worry that if I say anything about you, you will disappear. I just want to get through a nice meal and have at least two pots of tea.
“You look nervous.”
I always am.
“What’s wrong?”
Side bitches, mostly.
I say this in jest, but you don’t think it is that funny. I want you to cope with me. I think we are equally fragile. I jump into the river in my mind and the whole water taxi applauds when my body floats to the top. When I jump into the river, you might scream but get over it relatively quickly. When I jump into the river, I die, but still feel pretty bummed. Oh god, I want to be funny in front of you.
I make mention of going to the gym this morning and you are bored. I want to tell you a lot more than that but usually people don’t want that. I’m sort of an ‘open-book’ to the degree that I am open from a distance and you have glasses and can’t read me from that far away. Today we are getting duck in Chinatown and our handleless cups have been filled with almost an entire pot of tea.
There is glaze on the duck when we get it. I enjoy the glaze, and you are still skeptical. We have done a lot today, including a water taxi, a first for the both of us. I make mention that this is my year of firsts, but don’t tell you about all of them.
It’s late when we leave. The duck was large and worth it. You still ate less than me.
“It’s dangerous out here.”
I WANT TO JUMP OFF OF THE WATER TAXI.
We walk to the train and I say goodnight and you lean in to kiss me and I oblige and feel two knees under my ribcage and a hand at my throat and I have to correct myself. Sometimes I want to thank you. Sometimes we are on the water taxi. Sometimes we are a roast duck in a window, still dripping but okay to eat.
Nathan Masserang lives in Chicago and tweets @rapgamenathan
