I have a hundred words
to decide what to do.

If I ask and she accepts,
well then, that’s a complicated novel
and game over.

I don’t know.
If I don’t ask,
it will always just be a poem
of longing and regret;
and who wants that?

I could equivocate, stall,
pad out the proposal
with flowery propositions
and run-on sentences
with irrelevant red herrings
and perhaps a false dilemma or two
but in the end
how could that eventuate
a more acceptable outcome?

Sigh.

Buck up, man.
It’s only words.
Do it; do it now:
“Paula, will you…?”