By Echolocation
Date: 2001 Sep 16
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Fish or Cut Bait

Casting like a master fly fisherman
I float elaborate lures before you
In the dense air of cocktail conversation
Wary bright-colored hints, glittering veiled suggestions
Carefully designed to catch your eye
Drifting downward beside you
My whole being sensitive to the slightest tug,
The tiniest twitch of line.
And once or twice in the evening, maybe
With the sound of your voice saying my name
The touch of your lips on mine
Or a brief glimpse of tenderness in your eyes
The line goes taut -
For a breathless moment it thrums with tension
Time stands still
And I think I have you
Until the line slackens again
Somehow I've never managed to set the hook
Despite all the nibbles
You just keep taking the bait and running away
I'm left with nothing but the ripples on the surface

What am I using for bait?
Ah, yes -- it's my heart.