Tina, You Have Seven Messages

(In which I attempt the sestina form).

"Tina, You Have Seven Messages"

Tina, I just called to say I love that skirt
and making out in the bathroom stall
and that’s not all, fuck!, I mean
Tina, maybe I love you, I just might
There’s only room in my head for one word: Tina.
You know where I’ll be, when you get this, let’s talk.

Tina, do you have a minute to talk?
It’s me, Jack, I still have your skirt
It was here this morning when you left, Tina.
Oh the sex, Tina! I think I might install
a shrine to Tina in my room, I just might
but this note - call me, I’m not quite sure what you mean

Tina, do you want to see me get mean?
because I’m spitting lead, and it’s not just talk
I’ll come after you with all my might.
How could you do it like that, wearing that skirt,
batting those eyes telling me I’d lost all
your love? You fucking tease. Fuck you, Tina.

Do you remember the good times, Tina?
when we had sex and both knew exactly what it would mean,
when you would lead me to the riverbank, grasses tall,
and blossoms bursting forth from their stalks
and you took off my shirt, and your skirt
and we just lay there together and loved with all our might?

I don’t want to sound like I’m gloating, I know that I might
But I want you to know that I feel sorry for you, Tina
However you try to dance around it, you can’t skirt
the truth, that your new guy was just mean
I mean, he hit you and left you, at least that’s the talk
I guess it’s just your turn, sometimes we all sputter and stall

Tina, I think I’m finally ready to stand tall
and I hope you are too, I hope you might
forgive me, Tina for all my stupid talk
Forgive and forget me, Tina
And I’ll forget you and your skirt

Oh Tina? One last thing: your skirt -
I threw it away, so we won’t have to talk again, I mean,
I might… Nevermind, Tina, goodbye, that’s all