The upside down boyfriend

You’re more like a mushroom than a boyfriend… alive in the darkness while I’m asleep. Time zones our enemy, fertilizer your friend. I set my alarm to speak to you. 5am, unearthly by anyone’s standards, lest mine. Groggy, I dial. You answer, cheerful and bright, out playing Frisbee in a park far from my imagination. I’m thoughtful, waking delicately from a cold bed and pressure on my bladder. You tell of beaches and a warm sea, you may as well be talking of unicorns. I’m indignant. Lifting the curtain I see white dust through darkness, cold moisture kissing the early crocii. I tell you, but you’re laughing at a girl in a green swimsuit whose name you pretend not to know by heart, and I know not to set my alarm again for you, my upside down boyfriend, my exotic wanderer, my illusionary.