singular

my dear sir

busy though you maybe I

retain the right to be busier and

that my oeuvre might take precedence

over yours that the stuff of my doing

and being overrides all attention I may

or may not confer upon you and  

how dare I not have time for you

and your roguery your enticements and

your bustle ever so beguiling enough to distract

me from my singular purpose of mastery and 

attainment that I would even allow such a thing to

to come between me and triumph but 

you beckon and I resist you enchant and I waiver 

you fascinate and I am spellbound to the degree that only a splash of cold water upon my face and 

a shot of vodka chugged can return me to 

my state of determination

©Karen Casady2018