Inoculation

What jagged little pill

will make me proof

against your charms?

I wish and wonder,

plot this out:

• Spreadsheet
• Chi square
• Straight line regression

reviewed and checked,

again and again,

until it all goes bust.

My figures don't add up.

Can potions immunize me

from the sweet intoxication

of misspent lust,

unguarded dreams,

and wishes that should be horses?

I would go far away

(as far as winds will take me)

to prove my lack of interest.

Instead I harden my heart,

wear a mask of steel,

put feathers in my hair

and hope for the best.

And after all the fuss and fury,

the miserable moments

concealed by painted lips

and laughter,

no inoculation

(icewater in my veins)

will save me from my longing

to immolate myself

one last time

in the all-consuming fever

of your fire.

This was written for The Sunday Whirl and Sunday Scribblings.