Improv glitch

Sometimes it seems
like you skipped a few lines
in the script.
As if this was a scene,
and we each had a part in it
but what you say does not follow,
it skips ahead. In a way
tantalizingly sure enough
to swallow yet disjointed
- I almost could see
how we'd get to that fork
if you had followed me
or if I'd followed you,
if we'd kept trading turns
like sport, or
if we'd trade leads
jump ahead, answer back.

But you skip

whole scenes, almost. Whole
stages of thought in the track.
Our prints disappear, reappear
like the record was hacked
and just partly erased, but

I lived through that.

And we really didn't cover
those parts. It's just
a dotted line black
with the lack thereof
in the gaps. You lead on
in sudden jump flight.

So,
although it doesn't follow,
and though we missed parts
of where we could agree
- and I think that we might -
we proceed instead in fits
with missing parts

and starts from midair.

Lead on, skip on, you. Your approach
captures some of my heart. So I

will take care. It's
my job, then
now.

As we pause, to swing
back around
to whatever we passed
or skipped or lost
that could might have been
found. I will work

the gaps,
but for now,
I'll keep trust. For you

at least have the script.
And I don't. Let's just
have you direct,
and I'll edit

this mess of beautiful misfit
bits. There's an order in it,
a bridge, a throughline I dimly sense

within which you dance and live