I Think I Hate that Guy Jeff Who Works Three Desks Down from You
Jacob Tashoff
You smell like chicken tenders
and I hate you right now.
And maybe that’s a stupid thing to hate,
but you’re going to make
my bed smell like chicken,
and it’s kind of really adorable
how much your eyes light up
when you get to eat it,
but a chicken bed doesn’t
sound too comfortable,
even though I’m sure
you’d maybe love it
a bit too much.
Or maybe I hate the chicken
because sometimes it feels
like you love it
more than you love me,
or maybe I’m just insane
because I’m jealous of a
dead fucking bird,
and I’m sure there’s no way
you really stare at chicken the way
you do in my head,
but I can’t fight that feeling
that maybe you just don’t
love me as much anymore,
if chicken can win over me.
I think maybe I like
to overthink things a little
too much, which you’ve told me
plenty of times before, and then
you kiss me and tell me there’s
no one else you’ll ever love
but me, but then you go and ask
if I want chicken wings for dinner.
Maybe you’d love me more
if I was dead.
You don’t seem awfully enamored
with living chickens, if that
one time we went to that farm
way upstate is anything to go off of.
You said they smelled worse
than when that tilapia wasn’t cooked properly
and my ass went numb sitting
on the toilet too long,
and you laughed and bumped my arm
with your shoulder and linked
our hands in your pocket because
it was chilly so early in the morning
and your pockets were fleece lined
and mine weren’t.
I had a dream that I bought myself
a chicken costume to see if
you really did love chicken more
than me, but then it turned weird
and I’m glad I don’t keep a dream journal
anymore because I know you
always read it even though you said
you didn’t, and I doubt you
would want to read about
when I dreamed I was dressed like
a chicken and you’ve never been
more into the sex than when
chicken me was fucking you.
I know you still love me,
especially late at night when I wake up
because I’m suddenly really
thirsty, like really thirsty,
and I left a glass of water next to the bed
just in case this happened,
and you roll over to face me
but you’re still asleep
and your lips are a little pursed
and it sort of sounds like you’re
barely whispering my name,
and your arm falls across my chest
because I haven’t managed to actually
sit up yet, and now I never will,
because that was just too cute,
so instead I stare at your
beautiful sleeping face and
try to remember what it felt like
to not have a dry mouth.
I can usually ignore that, though,
because you look so peaceful
when you’re asleep, not
that you don’t when you’re awake,
but nothing that you were worrying
about during the day seems capable
of bothering you when you’re sleeping,
and I secretly maybe not-so-secretly
hope that it’s at least in part
because I’m sleeping next to you.
But now instead of lying awake
with a dry mouth, I lie awake
jealous of fucking chicken
and I can’t even believe myself
when I think about it, because it’s
just so stupid to me to think
a goddamn bird has a chance of
stealing you away from me,
and I know you’d agree
with the sensible part of me,
and you’d make absolutely sure
that I knew no dumb bird ever had
a chance of taking you away from me,
but most of the time, the irrational
part of my brain seems to win these arguments,
and honestly I’d rather you not know
that I’m freaking out about chicken.
So yeah, you smell like chicken tenders
right now, and I definitely hate chicken,
and I definitely don’t actually hate you,
and I’d rather not go out to dinner
with your work friends. Sorry.
Jacob Tashoff is a graduating senior with a major in Creative Writing. He can often be found plotting intricate fantasy novels he'll never write and cramming as many euphemisms into a story as he can fit. He has a great love of making the ordinary extraordinary and the extraordinary dull and boring. His other work can be found in the previous three issues of the Sanctuary Magazine and online with the Dime Show Review. His podcast work can be found online with ME/US/U and 1:16 in the Morning.
Issue 14
2020