Sited waiting for my date,
Spiked chills,
Spine in my veins.
I look—is it him?
What if he’s old?
What if—
My head is with
Lots of what ifs.
Not sure of his nationality,
But in his pic
He’s handsome as hell.
But wait a minute,
What if it’s a catfish?
The bus stops
And I ask, is it him?
Then a car—
A man walks out.
Was the lady
His chauffeur?
So what if
He is married?
But the guy is old,
So I make a hiss.
It’s not him,
Gott sei Dank.
He calls,
He will be late,
So he ain’t German.
So I wait.
Then what if
He speaks a lot?
What if he’s unimpressive,
Or full of impulse?
It’s 20 min,
Should I go back?
Maybe it’s karma—
Yesterday I made
A gentleman travel 59 km,
Only to be stood up
\'Cause I was scared.
So what if he’s short?
What if he’s impolite,
Or an old buddy playing young?
What if we don’t like each other?
What if he asks
What I can’t accommodate?
I hear some laughters
And chatters,
But my mind
Is devoured from what ifs.
What if he wants to try
Some chocolate?
What if he is for fun?
What if?
Just lots of what ifs.
So I puddle,
Tiptoe up down.