Hipster Jealousy

Smoking cigarettes in the kitchen
while the kettle is close to whistling.
Agathe ain't jealous of the girl in my blog
even though she asks about "her" here.

I see the particles of Agathe's harpsichord 
for the first time in a long off and on love.
I kiss someone else.
I am a Romeo Sid Vicious. 

At Trader Joe's, we dance but don't speak,
picking up cauliflower rice and pork belly,
silently wondering if this is right,
but we are hanging on.