The Dinner
I may as well post this since my final lines are getting such nice press. Thanks everyone!
The Dinner
I
The neural pathways between head
and mouth
are a game of telephone.
Clarity of purpose,
simplicity in the expression of
in-depth conceptual truths,
word choice, all, a maelstrom from which
only vagaries
and endless second chances have emerged.
I know exactly how I feel about everything.
I know it isn’t pretty,
that the instances of overlap
between my romantic stratagems
and the popular model of love
are rare and flimsy.
Even now, in this writing,
I am one thousand mirrors intersecting,
conscious of the fact
that distance is multiplied
when viewing your reflection,
that even as I stand adjacent
to my concise theory of everything,
it is so far away.
II
A second chance at explaining:
I know better than to promise.
I know there is a Never Again
that comes with every Forever.
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