Or did I misread my lines? Speak off-pitch?
These imagined centers of illusory aria let slip
And veils of preferential paths realign themselves
To more consequential binding monologues
Wherein I find myself inside, indulgent
While you go unneeded, and I left unheeded
Back at the table, where you left your scripts
And I suddenly sullen at the chance reencounter
For to balk at my ambition is my only constant
After which the veils shear, completely unfounded
To find myself at the table, no scripts, unneeded
