It’s okay, I say
to the man
asking for
my hand,
I give up
being a person
or maybe it’s
enough I just
give up being
It’s enough
I give up 
thinking in
terms of 
cell membranes,
of last night,
and why
I could not
just hug you.
so I train a muscle 
to see it the
way you do
even if I risk
getting it wrong.
Each sentence
of this afternoon
comes from how short
everything will be.
We’ll say
we understand
and get on
with the day
only knowing 
the basics,
which won’t
be enough
No one asked 
but I’d like to tell
why I open my
window first thing
in the morning
and not my mouth.
I really want to
believe you
when you speak
but maybe 
you should have 
had your eyes closed,
nothing in your hands,
going nowhere instead. 
Cynicism never 
hurt no one 
but me. It’s because
I’ve been
looking for the best
way to get rid of 
sleep and 
this thought.
That’s why I
find pedestrian
crossings dangerous
and not a very drunk
evening at the bar,
arguing, where
I could say anything
if I’m not careful
enough or when
I’m feeling exceptionally
gay, risking again,
slipping on everything.
I wait for the crowd
so I can do
exactly what
I’m doing now,
standing up
and mumbling.
It’s because no
one told me 
It’s because no
one could have
It’s because I do
get it so very much,
I get why you’re happy,
and maybe it’s enough
that I simply don’t give
up on anything.