Saturday

I've been trying to rationalize the

Various pulls in my life, ahora.

The looks that say "come talk to me"

The looks that say "go away"

     Pulls and pushes dependent on

     The wind, and electronic

     Devices, and schedules.

The conflict specialist says you prepare

Various aspects of yourself, you put them on,

And learn to balance the compartmentalizing

So that it all feels real, natural, normal

And it all is, though you are not.

I am drifting, floating more like, the clouds

Are various friendly faces, places of ease,

Normality cushions, and that wind oh how it blows 

But so slowly

How am I to know if no one points out the direction. I miss,

And wonder if I am missed,

Amiss, scattered amongst the misses,

The would be, the could be but

You'd have to ask

Miss, will you be mine?