I’ve grown accustomed to our mistakes
the lies we told, the lies we tell
en route to completing our epic fantasy trilogy.
If a smile is the best she’ll do, at least we’d have her smile,
our fate complete.
A pyrrhic victory is, by definition, still a victory
and no one ever accused us of being graceful losers
(losers, on the other hand…).
This is a disarmament plan for our cold war of cross-continental dead stares
because while I’m always trying to fall in love
I only end up falling in line.

I know what they’ll say:
“When he’s looking at you,
you’re the most important girl in the world.
When he looks away,
he has trouble with your name.”
A relevant criticism that makes me no less charming
a cad.

So I fail to impress again
but
for all my sins-
and, I assure, they warrant their own Great American novel-
I am trying
to live by one simple rule,
the only thing I’ve learned to be true:
When someone asks you to dance,
you dance.