Boyfriends I have known

The boyfriend of why don’t you introduce me as your boyfriend?
The boyfriend of peeled oranges.
The boyfriend of plums, and a sister who said my toenails were too short, and subleases.
The boyfriend of implied mob connections.
The boyfriend of poetry.
The boyfriend of folk songs about Jesus.
The boyfriend of arguments I couldn’t win, whom I married.
The boyfriend of big hands and sports radio.
The spirit boyfriend, who jumped to his death years later.
The musician boyfriend.
The boyfriend of friends in bands.
The lawyer.
The bartender.
The boyfriend of one concert.
The boyfriend of one Christmas party, in the coat room.
The boyfriend who already had a boyfriend.
The boyfriend of nine phone calls.
The boyfriend of email, and the boyfriend of long-hand letters.
Neither took to the other form, or any other form.
The boyfriend of Germanic insistence.
The boyfriend of homoerotic resistance.
The boyfriend of endless discussions about becoming my boyfriend.
The boyfriend of we can’t have sex because we’re not in love.
The boyfriend of I didn’t break up with you, you broke up with me.
The boyfriend of if we’re not married in ten years let’s get together.
The boyfriend of if I move back let’s get together.
The boyfriend of we’re compatible.
The boyfriend of sadness that could not be allayed.
The boyfriend of arrogance who would not be swayed.
The boyfriend of old money who declined to pay.
The accented boyfriend.
The boyfriend of bow lips and jail time.
The boyfriend of laughter, pale and pasty-faced.
The friend's boyfriend.
The boyfriend who left a change sorter.
The boyfriend who left a photo of Greece.
The boyfriend of tiny birds and Ford F-150s.
The boyfriend who left one shirt, blue, neatly folded, in a drawer I don’t open.
I think that was one boyfriend too many.