Friendchantment

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You fear, I think, more
than you say.
You fear me.
My unpredictibility
unsettles you.

That's nothing, friend!
You only see
a sliver, a portion.
I'm a dozen women a week;
a score!
Impossible.  Too soon, 
too short a span, you think.

But I say:
Too late, cocksure friend.
Too late, I'm afraid.
It's already been years since I said that.

We exist, I told you,
on entirely different timelines.
Yours a cagey waltz,
and mine a hot little Latin number.

And more: Were I so 
safely-paced, so uniformly
constant, would I have
ever fascinated you so?


(C)2003 & 2014 by Rosetti C.
Translunary Things
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