My therapist says, love addiction, but is that true
if I only jones for one specific guy?
Don’t contact, I’ve been told. He’s bad for you.
By friends and family, Bob the psychic, and I comply.
His kids don’t like me either. Watched their dad hurt.
My shrink plugs online dating as a cure: Try to open.
See who’s out there. But years ago, I tried, and found worse:
men who lied, stunk of mothballs, begged for S&M.
I wonder if my X was that bad or my interpretation?
When I make a list of what I want today, he gets a 90%.
I type my specs for perfection into a Google search, then wait
for a mix of David Byrne, Colbert, and Leonard Cohen,
but, up pops a photo of a robot and a woman, holding hands.
In my spam, my ex’s email: I still love you, oh, dear Susan.
Susan Vespoli is a poet writing from Arizona. Her work has been published in Rattle,
New Verse News, Mom Egg Review, Nasty Women Poets, and others: https://susanvespoli.com/