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To Date is to Decay
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Dusk Adored by some, pursued by many, disappointed by all,
With each futile trial, I hear the same nonsense Miss America speech.
Please spare me the wasted words that rebound off my bored eardrums
And float away, no weight to anchor me to that seat
Across from him or the next at the familiar table
That is divided by burnt-out salt and pepper shakers.
Hold the tomato and the mayo,
Pass me the ketchup.
I hope to drown out the monotony with my ice water with lemon.
The painful process of eminent elimination:
A dull dozen or so down, a few billion more of the same to go,
What is the probability that those cliche butterfly feelings will end up in the grave
After that first date?
Probably higher than I would like to fathom.
With each one, my chance for love dwindles like hopeless sand in an hourglass.
My time is evaporating into vapors that I can’t recapture.
It needs to rain and replenish my spirit.
But the extended forecast disappoints.
Eventually, my dehydrated heart will shrivel up into a bitter prune,
Cease to beat, and then disappear completely from behind my ribcage.
