maybe he’ll choose me
and not spend his paycheck at the bar Friday night
maybe he’ll choose me
and hold my hand in front of his friends
maybe he’ll choose me
and be more proud of my strong, strong intellect and kind, kind heart than my long, long legs and rockstar beauty that fades
maybe he’ll choose me
and listen — finally — to the daggers flying from his lips into my soul
maybe he’ll choose me
and withhold his wandering eyes from these fleeting days that we promised to us, and us alone
maybe he’ll choose me
and fight for me
when I, at last, chose me
because he didn’t choose me
Continue to do this
Come here
Trash-picking
Ignoring the treasure in your shoes
Until such time you find
A quiet mind and deep desire
To finally meet
Yourself
In all those better angels who’ve asked you
Won’t you dance
A different dance
