toy guns

i.
it is february and i am still,
waiting for something to happen,
waiting for the other shoe to drop.

(darling, this isn't a game
isn't a game
isn't a game
but it's still your move.)

ii.
this is a test, to see if
we can be a dance, fluid and graceful
or if this is a mistake
with stubbed toes and missed marks

(bite marks are optional at this point,
but really, i don't know what you're
getting at please throw me a line
over here before i drown.)

iii.
it isn't enough to write,
about you or the tremors and the goose flesh
and everything you may or may not do to me

(i'll admit nothing,
not a damn thing
unless you say please
and smile-- then maybe.)

iv.
i'm the left over human, the
bits and pieces that won't come off the tracks
the bits and pieces that wish
for the ocean and lighthouses and things
i've never seen before

(i'm the girl who doesn't
quite understand if you're in this
or not and what the hell are you
trying to do.)