A poem: Cat and Mouse

I like to watch him play.

Deft hands floating across the board.

Grasping the pieces gently, but with command.

Knowing the next move without thinking.

Perhaps he is thinking. Deep in thought

And the movements are rote. 1, 2, 3, 4…

Maybe this is how he lives life, always one step ahead.

I think of his eyes looking at the board and then at how they see me.

How do you see me?

How do you know without a doubt in your mind that you want to know me?

I think of these things as I watch him play.

Side long glances in play and a quick knowing smile that I have yet to understand.

Why me?

Someone so charming and…nice?

IS nice the word?

Perhaps I am thinking worldly. Someone so worldly.

Out of all the women in this place and you choose me.

Why do you choose me?

What could I possibly have to offer beyond the chaos of the moment.

The chaos of who I am?

“I would leave everything for you right now…”

Leave…everything? What does that mean?

Why would you need to leave anything?

What would make you want to share everything?

Is that what you mean? Normalcy? Ease? Inviting the chaos in?

Dropping little thoughts out there and me having to defend the very idea of the seduction.

Is it defend?

Maybe what I am is the offense?

You are the cat and I am the mouse.

Every move a strategy…every action a crumb to the path of oneness.

Maybe it’s a path that will lead to loneliness.

More lonely than ever before.

More solemn than ever intended.

What is it about this dance that makes us want to take the first step?

What is it about this life that makes me want you in it?

What is it about this connection that makes me want to rip it apart and never look back?

I’ve been hurt…a lot…I only want to severe ties that bind me to anyone not related to me by blood.

You aren’t an old flame or a warm furnace of love long forgotten.

You’re new. You’re untried. You’re interesting, and interested,

But am I willing to take your hand and let you in?


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