Waiting for a Lover

And what if you don’t arrive?

And what if you do?

I’m so afraid

I cross my fingers,

make a wish,

spit.

You’re new.

You can’t hurt me yet.

I light the candles.

Say my prayers.

Scent myself with mangoes.

I like the possibility of anything,

the little fear I feel

when you enter a room.

I haven’t a clue of the who of you.

And what if you do like me?

And what if you do?

I can’t think.

Dress myself in slinky black,

my 14-karat hoops and my velvet spikes.

Smoke two cigars.

I’m doing loopity loops.

Listen—cars roar by. All night.

I’m waiting for the one that stops.

All my life. Listen—

Hear that?

Yikes.