Sumo Wrestler

Posted in Uncategorized by anna on May 18, 2009

There should be a finite amount of time designated to think about a person who ultimately doesn’t matter.

Say I found a sumo wrestler with a preternatural awareness of my mind, or answers a projection in the sky like Batman. I’m sure I could find one on Craigslist under “domestic gigs” or something. And every time I think about you for over an hour per day, that sumo wrestler will crash through my window and headlock me and for one brief moment, as my skull threatens to cave in between his sweaty elbows, I won’t be thinking about the kind of genes your parents must have had to make your eyes so green. A deus ex machina for hire.

All this thinking is a waste because, like I said, you don’t matter. It doesn’t feel that way right now because it is intense and prolonged but shelved in the back of my head behind the churning emotions and analysis of every look and conversation is the knowledge that you will soon be replaced by someone else cute and blank enough to project on.

It happens so often that eventually, even the sumo wrestler would give up on me. I’d give him his last paycheck and he’d wish me good luck with sympathy glittering in his little black eyes and I’d watch as his massive, fat-rolled back disappeared down the street. He’d be shaking his head and I’d know he was thinking, “Damn, girl, he’s just not that into you.”

Because, yeah. He’s never that into me.

But he’s just part of a cycle. He’s a season. He barely exists for me except as a passing thing, like bird flu or Chinese slippers or the word “phat,” and eventually, all by himself, he will fade away.


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