Instead of inching away from an unfistful of hope
I can decide to do more.
His slick desperation, I can interpret as yearning,
His lack of manners, spontaneous charm.
I can decide to skin my thoughts carefully
So that only the main problems remain
And I can outsource the solutions to engineers, doctors, and consultants
While I make love to the poet at heart.
While running errands I can listen to music that makes me unhappy
Excrete all joy out of the body and soul.
Once the purge is over
You can call me and I promise to giggle
With my enunciated laughter (as my friend often points out)
And throw you a kiss or two.
Instead of writing this poem
I may decide to pet a kitten
Or.