Six Degrees Of Steparation Poem by Maya Reid

I’ll have you know,
today was going to be the day.
Maybe not with heavy quotes like all those
chick flicks and other assorted life-misrepresentations
but it would have been special enough for me.
(I know my passion sometimes scares you,
but I can be surprisingly extra ordinary
in all the ways that count)

-ing the occasional hallway run-ins,
you’re definitely the one I see the most
(Sadly, this is usually at the most inopportune times,
like when I reeeeally have to pee, or on the fifth or sixth
of my eleven steps to the shower, cap- and robe-clad)
It’s funny—
you claim you’re always in your room,
but as today made it a point to prove,
you’re never around when I want you to be

there for me, holding my hand, like you’ve been thrice before.
You listen as much as I talk:
that's never happened to me before.
And I swear you’re the only man in the world
who can make Kansas
sound as interesting as Kenya.
The line of communication from you to me used to be fuzzy
I don’t remember when I started really hearing you,
but I wanna make sure you get this message

me and no one would ever suspect a thing—
you sound so silly and formal in your texts.
We have to take ourselves out of our element
to ever be truly in it. I know it sounds corny, but
what the hell? Amidst deadlines and stress,
I could use a little corny in my life, so
I’ll just say it: you can make the whole world melt away

from it all, we fall
into this mold that makes us somehow more
but never lingers longer than the tingle of my hand
after you’ve let it go. I don’t know if that means we’re
perfect for one another or
we never will be.
Tonight, though, I was willing to take the chance

-s are, I’m making too much of those little moments,
but the way I see it, there has to be something in
the fact that you’re charming
when I least expect it
and even when I don’t exactly understand why,
I can’t exactly cross you off.
Tonight, I was willing to play the fool
if it meant I could find out

my door I went: one to the right, three forward, then to the left
to the left
Six steps separate me and you

and I, or so I thought.
My customary quiet knock: no answer.
With hope, a little harder, but no
such luck—you’re not there.
(It’s time to say I told you so.) I’ll bid my dream goodbye
as I’d have done you, holding just a little too tight,
granting the lightest kiss on the cheek

-y some might call me, and I must admit,
I’m not that regular a girl, and tonight,
if you had opened that door,
I’d have flipped the script on you.
But it seems like we’re just not ready for that, so
two to the right, three forward, and one to the left

to my own devices, I remember what that ambiguous “They”
always says:
There are six degrees of separation between every person in the world.
Maybe there will never be any less
between you and me.