Are we an item?

When she asked me this question

I cringed, I smiled, I stuttered

For it was a question I was expecting but not so soon

It was a discussion I had tactfully avoided

Partly for fear of not knowing how to choose my words

Partly for not being sure of myself and what I wanted

So I let it play in my head again

Trying to picture her mien as she uttered those words

Trying to detect if there were any hidden booby traps

Trying to deduce any underlying assumptions

Are we an item?

A typical me would have said something like

No, we are just part of an inventory

But I feared a woman’s wrath wrought from

Taking her words too lightly which is the same as playing with her feelings

It dawned on me then that I could not evade this

Better for me to address this issue once till it comes up again

It was just one of my confrontations with social norms

And oh, how I hate to follow the crowd?

Lord knows how easily I lose myself in a crowd

Where the idols of the tribe and marketplace are rife

The philosopher in me yearning for difference thinking

I cherished my solitude and lonely path

And on the issues of faith and love

I had long left the leading of the crowd

I run simulations of scenarios with her

The presuppositions and entailments of her question lay bare

I assured her with my words

Between the both of us, she has nothing to fear

The creases on her mind I ironed out

I won’t put a label on us, I spelled that out

And now to answer the question,

YES, we are an item.



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