you look at me
I look at you
and we both know that we could
if we wanted to
but you want protective rules:
weekdays are for working
and Sundays you need to do your laundry
what about Saturday afternoons?
Saturday afternoons between 2 and 4.30 could work?
in between surf and sunset beers with the boys
you could text me during the day to confirm
you really DO want to keep seeing me
I inspire you, you say – I’m such a free and spontaneous soul!
you look at me, in anticipation
I look at you, trying to make sense of your words
and I know that we could, if we wanted to
but I guess you don’t
not enough
what I hear you saying is that you want to suck the freedom and spontaneity out of my veins, bottle it up and drink it between 2 and 4.30 on Saturday afternoons?
like you take a health supplement instead of eating greens
I’m not fucking Berocca!
you look at me, then look away
I look at you, and try to understand
I don’t
I look away
you look at me
you look away
we both know we could
we both know it could be absolutely frighteningly beautiful
but no, not with those rules around it
not with freedom bottled up as a supplement
we’d better not look…
