She’s always around, and usually that’s telling enough
But lately it’s been nonstop
I’m at the center of her attention and
every conversation is about how I feel
What if I can’t satisfy her?
She brings out every feeling somehow,
and to me, tutti fruitti could also be called paste
When the sum total of something’s parts leads to everything being canceled out
Can’t take that emotional math to the bank
Can’t go out to eat on it
And there’s a very narrow path along
talking my way in or out of things
where I’m regularly thrown off course.
Sometimes we hold hands when we sit on the couch
and watch from underneath as great waves pass over us
while I tell her that they should invent a different way out
other than through.