When I meet a person, what do I see?
Invisible tubes stretching out towards me.
Like octopus arms but thin and clear.
They twist and turn. One is close to my ear.
I shake it loose before it sinks in,
And notice another one reach for my chin.
Got it! It's loose, but before I could rest
Another is reaching straight for my chest.
I step aside and foil its goal,
When three more are looking for those invisible holes.
My stomach, my elbow. Oh, no it's my side.
“Get away. Stay away. Please!,” I cried.
You say, “It’s part of being attached?”
When friends and lovers are perfectly matched?
Then where are the tubes I use to take
Ideas, energy and other high stakes?
It seems the tubes I once willingly stuck
In my heart, mind, soul and gut,
Have taken too much, and now I must learn
To give when I want not when you yearn.
©Lynnette Schuepbach, August 13, 1992