Here is the Dance

Here is the dance. We twirl our words on their tippy toes until the room's gossiping swirls into a monotone drone around our conversation. My eyes, only at yours, doing that careful nudge for clues. Will I be rejected? The point being, I'm not supposed to care.

Why is this shit so hard?

Thousand of people everyday, searching for a "Second Chance" in the missed connections of a City's free rag. I wonder, did they ever give themselves a good shot to begin with?

"You just have to go out in that mindset once in a while. Find someone and have fun for one night."

How do you turn a pine into an oak? Is soon-to-be ole Bionic ready to be so lighthearted? This sappy romantic? Shit. All right. Experiment time.

So, here I am, doing the dance. My drink was drained an hour ago, and for once, I didn't care. Time flies on 737 wings before I realize that the outside of your leg is warm and buzzing against the inside of mine. I'm unsure how or when we got into such friendly posturing. But, you didn't remove it and that is the point.

And here I am, trying to be lighthearted and fun and unsentimental and less cut out of those hard convictions. Think out of the box. Think out of the box. Think out of the box.

And it is from this place by which I arrived here. But, just as quickly, the little voice goes: "Wow. This person is no one-nighter." But then, I don't even know you.

So, back to where I started. A Pine Tree. I'll have to scrap this. I must try to be an Oak.