“Ready to go?”
The thing about being a tangler…
“Hold on, just give me a minute…”
Is that you were touching strands all the time.
“Spring, my love, can you be organized for more than fifty seconds?”
And running your hands through other people’s lines all the time.
“If you wanted someone organized, Lance, you should have bothered someone else’s stars.”
But you couldn’t touch other people’s strands…
“I didn’t want anyone else’s stars. Here’s your left shoe.”
…without getting tangled up yourself.
“Awesome. Now, where’s my purse?”
And the thing about knots was…
“You didn’t leave it on the bus again, did you?”
…they tended to manifest in strange ways when you weren’t paying attention.
“No, no, you brought it home for me. Remember?”
…and when you were distracted, tangled up in someone else, it was easy to not pay attention.
“That’s right… here it is. What would you do without me?”
“Oh, I’d get by. But it wouldn’t be nearly as fun.”
And the thing about being a tangler was…
“Well, I do aim to please.”
…When you got tangled up, you got really tangled up.
“And that’s what I love about you. Well, part of it.”
Close with a kiss, and find yourself even further tangled.
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