Dating for me is a packadge of gum

A stick for each passing moment

Hoping each kiss will transcend, something

Rise us up

and not turn our insides out living each day as opposite day.

I've never finished a packadge

One or two pieces remains lying in wait.

Until time hardens it and slowly cracks it in half.

For a time I stare at the packadge and morn.

But then I remember I want more than the polish

More than the gloss and the sling-backs

I crave the safety of the known

And all the mysteries inbetween

And so I purchase another packadge of gum

Throw it in my purse

I idly chew and wait

and dream

and wait

The End

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