Sylvie Hill

NOTHING PERSONAL

It’s OK! I know why I came!

I didn’t know this in the land of the Swiss
When an old Egyptian boyfriend
Invited me to Switzerland
To meet his family and travel to Paris
For a holiday for two weeks in spring.
I did all the planning.
He did nothing for my birthday
While we there, instead he said he was going to see
A chick he used to fuck called
Sally.
Then would go on telling Everybody:
“I took Sylvie to Paris for her birthday!”
No you didn’t, you jack off,
and you cost us $250 in a delayed flight
to Vienna cuz you didn’t pay any attention
to itineraries.
I moved in with him.

It’s OK! I know why I came!

But I really didn’t know why I was there with
the Carpenter boyfriend in the country
Invited me to meet his family
But then left me alone to
Socialize: it’s OK, they were really sweet.
But then back home, he cried:
“there’s no room for the two of us!”
And wanted to stay together, but move out.
Hunh? And amidst the disintegration
He thought it an excellent idea
For us to take vacation
To his family’s home in New Brunswick??
I didn’t go and he took two months
to relocate.

It’s OK! I know why I came!

But I knew what I was doing in the arms of my bushy-beard
He offered to make me soup when I was sick, Oh what a dear!
I knew I was in the right place in his big hairy chest
He counseled me forever, loved me and treated me his best.

I knew what I was doing in the arms of my punk rocker, too
He made me treats, supported my poems, school and made me a tattoo!
I knew I was in the right place in his long, slender arms
He loved me unconditionally, and really set the bar.

There were two others
One who said I was the best girlfriend ever
For buying him a Liverpool FC touque.
He moved to England,
He’s the quote in Hoxton
And after a few exchanges
Never spoke again, were through.

Then that wild one, the subject
Of my CBC poetry Face-Off
What a gorgeous cock
And a ballsy, supportive guy too
But looking for a wife and kid
Not a poetess academic with mystic values.

And with you?

There’s no time that was never unclear
But you kept lecturing me as though I didn’t hear
Are you retarded, are you not aware
Of why they call me Starfucker?
Your argument, my love, should be about SENTIMENTALITY
Not my issue but your disability
If dealing with people’s emotion toward you makes you freaky
It’s OK, you’re in good company.
You should have seen how I scolded a London man
who mused Me, I didn’t like it and got haughty.
Why do you think it looked like a bomb went off in my hotel room
I wasn’t expecting us to go back, get naughty.
Why do you think I couldn’t talk, remember a dumb fucking thing
Because, my friend, I trusted deeply
And I couldn’t penetrate you like a real dude
Cuz the fucking Internet got in the way
Noticed how when I said anything real
I’d always look away
I was talking to You in my head
The man before me was a stranger.
Don’t worry about not getting me off
No chance of that when I’m not in love,
“Nothing personal,” right boss…

It’s OK! I know why I came!
And it’s clear why you did the same.

© Sylvie Hill 2014