—SHOW TIME—

Sorry for the way I stumbled into your life.
I swear to God-the floor was pulling at my ankles…
also! the celling top was giving me a backside high-five — the moment I finished the fifth and after the sun turned off the lights.

I embarrass myself each time I try to embrace this side,
cliche as falling in love like a rerun television show—
freaking out like a pubescent clown realizing he should have grown up to be a mime;
a silent touch of romantic irony, laughing at my own jokes,
until this awkward moment flies out the window…

stop me if you heard this one before;
why did time grow wings?
to fly by like a crow squalling-
that it is past time you should be married…

—PUNCH LINE—

unreliable communication
=
incomprehensible interpretations

being an addict to tragic accidents-
known as flirtatious Failures fulling the fire
of the metaphorical dying flicker to the love life of our protagonist-
this is precisely what was prophesied
from a poet’s birthday candle wishes.

it’s funny how Lady Luck and cousin karma have this affair of misfortune;
capsizing all relationships—
that were set to sail—
hook-line-and-sinker stationary in an icy-burn isolation.

hopefully time can thaw out this doomed  autobiography (of a poetic confession trapped with 4 borders boring the audience awaiting the same confession)
he has been struggling to sense together,
since the first line that was typed…

—MAKING UP MY MIND—

so I stand up with a straight face—
swallow the frog and eat the butterflies for breakfast—
walk up to you with full intentions,
with a sly grin you echo the words I mummer; just as a mic in a crowed place,
I repeat in a shy broken throat-making me more of a fool from the words I chose-
latter to laugh
and just to write about
how embarrassing I made our very first date…