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Introduction: Two separate, apart.

Where were you when I lost my way?
and how did you get back? (and why?)

Act 1: A dramatic struggle against instinct.

You sometimes speak without thinking,
and when you do I am forever grateful for your honesty.
But you retract it quickly, afraid the words you allowed to play amongst the
clouds might somehow spontaneously combust and leave you mute.

Act 2: Your heavenly harmonics make me insane with delight.

One time I heard you humming a lovely tune,
slightly out of key, out of rhythm.
You saw that I was interested and became silent again,
sure that the constant vibrations would render you senseless.

Act 3: Mother, do you think they'll try to break my balls?

I read a treatise you wrote about the spirituality of butterflies
and their assured place of glory in the afterlife.
You laughed at me when I told you that you should publish it
because you were certain the mobs would lynch you.

Act 4: I can see you in a mirror...you're wearing crystals and beads.

Sitting out in your Japanese garden late at night, talking to the constellations above,
Orion told you to buy that house on the beach, Cassiopeia said don't.
When you heard me moving about in the kitchen
you pretended to be drunk and started to dance around the pond to prove it.

Act 5: An untimely end to an inopportune situation.

I tell myself not to worry too much about you,
you're old enough to know what's what.
I don't think I can help it, but I'm trying to resist that tempation to fall,
...I'm afraid I might catch your disease.

Finalé: How to justify your own indecisiveness.

I could love you, you know...
If only we both weren't so human.

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