Moments & Memories

“Most men”—

I can’t speak for. And I never presumed to

but I do find myself comparing and contrasting…

So as not to get confused, or confuse you—

I want to be clear.

And the signals being sent are causing the airwaves to become a little murky.

Smirking becomes flirting

That becomes playing becoming physically intimate.

Before you know it we’re close

And our clothes seem to know we hope to close the deal, soon

You open.

And as the most patient of patrons waiting to dine,

I know that when you do.

I’ll pray and then take my time,

I am devoted to the task at hand knowing that sometimes only a moment

Or only in a moment, and sometimes

Only for a moment is where a memory can be made.

I’m hoping so at least.

And if I can leave behind one that makes it worth knowing,

Me …then so be it.

And if in doing so you figure out who you dream it is you are

Then please… go be it.

And when you look back at me

The regret that would ordinarily be there will instead be

a quiet smile—

soft, steady, unburdened.

Because when the air clears,

and the static fades to silence,

you’ll see we weren’t signals

but notes finding harmony,

imperfect and fleeting.