While Lovers Are Comets

Springing straight up from the occasional snapping traps laid before me in daily life. Test the will, and be sub-consciously ready with the saving reflex.

Leap in my new Proto Power shoes, hop bow-legged to save my balls. Jog at my steady pace while boxing my fists in the dark. And be careful not to catch a cop or robber on the chin. Or then it's trouble, Marlowe. Splints, maybe.

It's what they mean about getting your business straight. Then you can keep it straight, maybe, says a patron, and learn to relax. Re laaaax...
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I believe the bible is right: it's your tongue that does your dirty work. Lungs for tone and inflection, as well. You can stab someone to their heart and not mean to. Say, when questions start popping. Hop. Scotch.

"That certainly calls into question everything you've ever told me about your intentions in this relationship."

In midair I say, "Wait. There's a misunderstanding here. I'm not sure what you think I just said. I'm consistent, sweet-heart. Now what is it again?"

"You just told me your basic intention in life is to avoid work not matter what. How do you expect to be in a relationship with an attitude like that."

"Did I say no matter what? No, no. I was talking about in my present condition. Being single and childless."

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At work my boss expects me to think and sometimes I say I understand some apparent chop-logic when I don't. I plan to figure it out on my own, whatever it is, when he's away and not making me worry. But what if his next question is premised on that supposed understanding I have?

Then you spring up and turn around in mid-air and start walking, I suppose.

Bosses are a dime a dozen.