When I met you, I saw sweat, saw skirts;

when you saw me, saw my bike, saw my cigs;

You’d figured I was active, thought maybe

a hipster; I’d found you common, a ditz:

 

You were showy, you were confident, you

seemed Short-minded, with long-ass legs;

And I’d come late, I was loud, a sore thumb,

You’d found me cocky and thought: “that guy.”

 

You’d spoke German, in front of them, you

hoped to impress us or, persuade or dazzle

but, I’d heard only your stumbles, and your

tenuous grasp, I saw only your flaws.

 

You acted boldly although I’d acted bolder

but, then again, I am the guy so, maybe

it wasn’t all too impressive–relativity,

baby, relativity–objective that cannot be.