The Right Time

April 1, 2010
“Someday,” you say,
and my thoughts freeze
(stop the show)
like Hell before the night
for you and I is sure to come.
Eyes narrow,
(bone marrow explodes)
but yours stray from here and now
to chase a breeze
so distant
I must squint
to gaze across a blacktop
full of wishful thinking
in between us-
just to make it out from all the wasted time
and blame I’ve all but signed
across my weathered heart, I’ll haunt you
(like the worst mistake escaped
from inattentive watch)
don’t cross me,
because baby,
I will cross you right out
but unlike you, my promise means
“I promise,”
and I assure you, dear, I’ll keep my story straight:
I hate you, don’t hope you
reach out for me
so we’ll pretend we’re good friends
to what end?
This seems like the right time,
the fight or flight time,
the feeling-so-slight time to

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