Unavailability, that aphrodisiac
Seems well beyond my power to project or even feign
If someone interests me they can assume I will be back
As sure as rain will only fall upon the plain in Spain.
Undoubtedly there may be those who doubt this frank confession
Or even claim I make it here to seem naïve when I
Am cynical and calculating. Yet this false impression
Only deceives those who have not beheld me sit and sigh
For someone when I ought to be perhaps a bit more coy
Or stand attentive at the call of someone who was late
Even though I should have left before. I get more joy
Out of being available, and therefore choose to wait
Rather than assert myself and leave. I like this me
Even though I often find it fails romantically.
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