We, The Uninvolved
I saw her just yesterday.
We chatted, a little flirting.
We, the uninvolved.
The ones who see themselves as separate from others.
Who go it alone.
Will we regret it one day?
Or in the end be glad?
We think about this sometimes.
But we, the uninvolved, are who we are.
It seems to work best this way for us.
It may seem sad to some.
Or wrong to others.
But to us, well it's happened this way for a reason.
Nothing's perfect.
There's always regrets and doubts.
But then you roll the dice and take your chances.
Everyone does and has to accept what comes.
We, the uninvolved who pass each other.
Perhaps enjoy a few moments together.
But—are glad to get back to our solitude.
Our alone-ness.
Our single mode of living.
It's worked out this way for better or good.
It seems to come natural.
Yet we can act like there might be a possibility of getting together.
Oh yes, we can act up a storm.
But where does it usually lead?
Back to our single existence.
Just a flirtation again.
Just another dalliance with possibility.
Not a commitment.
Nothing binding.
We smile and dance around each other.
We think—maybe?
Or maybe not.
No maybes in the end.
No way to change.
We, the uninvolved.
