And then there’s the time that the little girl I looked after
asked if I’d seen that girl Scarlett that I liked.
I told her, “No. I don’t think Scarlett likes me, really,”
and the girl seemed to pout a little.
“Well, is there anyone else?”
“Yeah… there’s this tall lady who, when she takes off her glasses,
looks like a goddess.”
The little girl brightened and asked for more details.
I did what I could to supply.

I didn’t say that I didn’t think she liked me, either,
that I was rotten and reading vibes,
and worse at acting on them.
I wasn’t going to tell a ten-year-old about my issues
with aversion to risk when I hadn’t gone into enough detail
with my therapist yet.

Clearly this would have to be addressed at a future point.
“So are you gonna ask her out?” The girl asked.
“Maybe,” I said, “Not yet, but maybe.”