so many fuckless days and nights
i've spent in seconds missed--
blurred. leaving you scared,
it's kinda what i do.

we can live a long time
working out formulas.
pulling costumes and words
to set out what we've meant to do.

i can read poetry into your porch.
first-kiss you timeless;
until you're not prepared,
and we're a little scared, and a bit confused.

there's nothing strange--
isn't this what we're meant to do?