I want to pretend that I had a choice in the matter.

I want to act like I consciously decided to pursue you.

That would be, as they say, a lie.

I didn’t know you.

I wouldn’t have.

We floated around the same 200 or so miles-

Autumn Leaves-

The wind, which makes the final decisions for all of us, blew me your way.

Nicotine, the layman’s drug of choice, gave rise to you making me laugh.

I wanted to pretend that I had a choice in the matter.

That would be, as they say, a falsehood.

But the guy who makes you laugh is often the very best of the ones you know.

I was willing to drown in you.

I would have.

We waltzed around the chance 200 or so times-

Paso Doble-

The dancing stars, who dictate our ultimate fates, guided me far away.

Alcohol, the intellectual’s drug of choice, gave rise to rekindling.

I wanted to pretend that I ever had a choice in the matter of loving you.

That would be, as they say, pulp fiction.

The guy who loves you after a suicide attempt, after a break up, after a fight, is a keeper.

I never have, I never will- feel differently.

I feel no distance.

I want to act, I want to pretend-

Yet

I

wouldn’t

change

a

single

thing

about

right

now.

That would be, as they say, the truth.