Purpose

You got in my car and
we drove to the ocean
and you noticed
the moon.

You laughed at my stories
and we went to
your apartment.

You touched me
and I watched the plant
in a pot painted
with starved letters
spelling, begging
"grow."

I fell out of your door
and thought about
the words you said.
I swear I do these things
on purpose.

You told me it was lonely here.
I passed a girl on the way out;
she had a scarf
and she was pretty
but she lowered her eyelids
and I don't blame her
one bit
and yes,
it is lonely here.