Vincent and Theo
Just another troubled pair of roommates
One responsible, calm, drama-repelled
The other passionate, misunderstood,
also maddeningly brilliant if you could put up with his antics long enough to enjoy the gifts that came wrapped in leg cramps-level pain,
Difficult and before his time.
I don’t think I’m either of these tortured folk,
but boy do I feel that conflict in my bones.
I bet this story repeats on an infinite loop somewhere out there where time and experience are stuck,
in fact I bet it’s among the universe’s most overplayed and anxiety-inducing cassette tapes
The way we pretend to not get on each other’s nerves while the tension builds
or be annoyed, or jealous,
We’d all rather suffer than fight
well, most of us
but then the front row seat to others’ lives gets so unbearable, right?
Maybe this is the way the gods are able to love us
Only from a distance
Maybe they wouldn’t stand for our presence at all if we were
leaving dirty dishes in their sinks and twiddled our thumbs hoping they’d use their magic snapping-fingers powers to do them for us
or if we left dirty socks in the middle of their living room floors.
We show up for the holidays to hugs and “I miss you so much”-es, and then it’s “whew, they are FINALLY gone! I need a stiff drink and pass me that bong while you’re up please, that was a doozy of a visit.”
Theo, how’d you do it, man? I guess when it’s family it’s different,
but man oh man, I’d buy you a beer right now if you weren’t long-dead.