Dear New Man,
Where did you come from, and who are you really? I mean, really?
Honestly, I’ll never ask and I don’t want to know. If I never ask you, maybe you’ll never ask me, and we can float on, in our orbit of two, never even knowing what it is that we are avoiding.
Let’s listen to loud music, and shout into each other’s ears hanging on to every word. Keep ordering me cocktails, and I’ll keep pretending to try and pay. Let’s push through the crowd to the front of the dance floor, elbow people accidentally on purpose, and claim a space for revelry. Let’s make everyone wish they were us. Dance with me like you mean it - with and not to.
Wait for me, and tell me it was worth it. Tell me I’m pretty, even when my hair is messy and my makeup is all washed off. Lift me on to your lap, engulf me in your arms, and realize only once I’m there that I can’t be anywhere else. Surprise us both, and then let’s discover the surprise together.
Make me laugh, and I’ll make you.
Kiss me like you can’t stop… because I can’t. Swim with the current, go with it, let it wash over us, let us ride over it. Get pulled in to orbit with me. Let me curl up in a cozy spot - you know I’ll pick the right one. Talk to me about dreams and life and essence while the tides are calm, and don’t fight it when they rise again. And again.
Snore. I’ll tell you I don’t mind, and I don’t. But just keep being a little bit embarrassed by it anyways.
Ease in to the day with me. Make us a nice joint in the sun, and leave me some for later to save me a trip to a sketchy neighbourhood. Be chivalrous.
Leave like you don’t want to, but don’t call me tomorrow. Don’t ask me my last name. Don’t ask me to reveal the cards you can see hiding in my pocket.
Please don’t ask me where this is going. Even though I kind of wouldn’t mind if you were there when I arrived.