Benchmark

I will be the last one.
The last single standing.
While they walk down the aisle,
I will be sitting at my sinking desk,
Writing tilted sonnets about
Hopeful Love;
Deciphering my scratched jazz CDs.

Interchangeably mixed with my
Sparse selection of harder rock
To remind me of alternative Universes
of Life, Laughter
and bitter tears.

I congratulate them on their bliss
and baby cribs months later.
(Am I missing the benchmarks?)

No, I'm working.
Yep, just working.
No, I'm not dating anyone right now.
Yeah, I know it's ok.

My tears rarely break through the brittle surface
But they often remind me of their pending presence.

Not because I am single--
Hardly.

Because every bride and mother
Seem contently satisfied with their situations.

While I am screaming on the inside for Life
to impregnate me.