It’s quite a sight
to see my machinations
dance before me,
and I’m not sure how to feel
when they call me to declare
how I’ve been dreaming.

I try so hard to forget my forgetting
and that maybe when I feel this way,
I can coexist with my desires,
but something tells me when I hear
a man pining,
that it wouldn’t be fair to project myself onto him,
no way.

They keep calling.

I haven’t the ability to trust a phone call
from a fleeting notion I shouldn’t keep.
Please forgive me, sir,
but I think it’s been too much to see
these characters dance to the images in my head,
knowing that reality
is much too far out of reach.