find selves

Whenever I'm not around, I'm like
what was I in the middle of? I've
got to go find myself, ask, make
sure. Sure, I know how sure is
made. And I'm off, but - my mistake is,
everywhere I go I take my problems
with. Which I wouldn't trade
for a whole pile of yours, not even
if you came with. Well, maybe
then, as a temporary arrangement. See,

I'm kind of sweet on you. I never told you,
except every day. I make bold comparisons
like sticky honey and a wild mane
like tumbling seas, caves of molten
gold, filled with blue-butts bees.

I think of you like

a diaphanous impression you've
made on my mind that slipped in
and hijacked the whole thing, which
is fine. I always see a thing like that
coming a mile away, which - in your strides

at current rates of pace, could take
forever to catch me, and I'm
not hiding. Not to worry!
You already have. You've caught me
fair and well, and whenever you're not
around, I don't pause, doubt or wonder

for a minute

what I have to do now. I won't
tell