A Life Between Parentheses

Come deliver me
from my pathological unease
(the obsequity
of a life between parentheses).
Don’t let me slip away
although I beg to stay
your hand.

If you succour me
with your perfect manners
I might sucker you into
something less than honest;
though I mind the pain
I wouldn’t let it gainsay
a friend.

Love is the only G-D worth fighting over,
is an improvement on our human nature,
is another name for “ever after”;
let none try to make do without.

An epiphany
like the sound of burning bridges
came & tore me away
from the fine print & the verbiage:
don’t let me slip away
although I beg to stay
your hand.