I can’t recall whether it was you or I who
crashed into us first. Perhaps
the swallow, darting nervously past your
dark hair made us think we had both
been the first…
But secretly, I know it was me.
As sure as I know you liked it when
I smiled at you–
Or when you were tired and I said
I understood because
there’s so much to do
and not to do.
Do you think anyone else knows?
I’d be amazed.
And don’t think you can hide behind
that goodness. Those puppydog eyes
and that eager nudge have convinced
even uninterested bystanders
to talk to you–
There was no hope for me
or Penny.
You two-timing son of a bitch.
Word Play 