The Future Perfect

 

I decided that photo you gave me of the two of us on the Golden Gate

will look good in my photo album, "Summer 1994."
I was thinking, maybe, between the photos of my first
college roadtrip to see Belle & Sebastian in Boston
and the ones my mother took of me when I fell asleep
in my ice cream circa July 1980.

I was also thinking that six years from Friday, we should make our second date;
we could go to that great sushi restaurant that closed two years ago on Gough and
California. I know the hibachi sucks there (even though it’s your favorite); but, the oysters in ponju with
wasabi are sublime. And, I know you hate cocktails, but, the sake-tini with cucumber is just like the
flavored mineral water you're always drinking. I think you'll like it.

And next month, I was going to buy you a bouquet of flowers
from the stand at the Powell Street BART Station to apologize for ruining your birthday last year
when I never asked you what you wanted to do
(the notecard will read, "I’m sorry." I might draw a heart on it,
because I’m thinking "I love you" would be too gauche.)

I was wondering what you think of that note I passed in fifth period algebra class?
You said my text message from my 20th high school reunion in Pittsburgh was too terse
(“Thinking of you, heart”), so I used a thesaurus to help me with the romantic parts,
I was hoping I could hide behind irony with more syllables.
It made me think of the great American novel I’m gonna write,
only instead of using the traditional publishing companies,
I’d do a multimedia website, intersperse the text with embedded vlog entries from
my three-month vacation in Santiago that I’d take after selling the rights to it.

Yeah, that’ll be awesome.