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.