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