a stumble, a tongue slip,
a body in bed facing away,
an unintended provocation
commences a collaboration

just another unrequited disaster,
marks me as a lowly private
in the disarmed ranks of
mutilated souls composing,
while decomposing,
sad love poems,
as if the world
needed another...

a turn away needs a turn to,
a cul-de-sac rejection
needs a turnabout,
a traffic circle pointless,
with one exit only,
road signed,
"exit to a  collaboration of provocation"

thanks and thanks

a day together normative,
now marked by a
stinger singed in the early morn.
a physical no thanks,
her passing lane left turn signal
engaged

me too passing into this,
a disgorged rejection that
is to become this realized collaboration.

*only I wrote it and you
did not
read it
just provoked its creation,
our sad collaboration