If only there were
floor and stamina enough to dance,
if only the music would last
one more hour
one more season, one more life.
Which song would I choose? Which partner
could gracefully twirl me, waltzing
There were so many partners and songs.
So much music.
So many dances.
I wonder if regret is a superpower,
a sub-genre of invisibility,
a strength wielded by those
who have grown
too old to take anything back.
Need is want’s
tenacious second cousin.
That waif with large, hungry eyes
of heavy artillery.
It were truly about
how he never dried dishes
or folded laundry,
you would have gotten an automatic
dishwasher and a drop off service.