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