Haste

I was in a hurry. Like the white rabbit With a bushy tail, and bright eyes.

I thought I had it all sorted. I knew the way out of the maze and I had a compass and well, I had nice stumpy (sic.) legs to take me there.

And it was a good story.

The normal kind, but good.

Boy meets girl and tral-la-la-la.

But you know what, Alice had it right when she said “I’m late / I’m late / For a very important date. / No time to say “Hello, Goodbye”. / I’m late, I’m late, I’m late. “

I am always late. For love, for life, for that special day…or night. Silly rhyming aside, somehow, I am always a step behind where I would want to be.

Other girls seem to have it so easy. They go and bag one, like it was as easy as cutting cheese, and show ‘em off.

Fine. We get it. We are both of marriageable age, and you got married. I did not.

But I got plenty more alcohol.

Why doesn’t that count for something?

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