pull of the minor key

I cannot stand the pull of a
minor key so early in the morning.
I can't stand the distant pull
or the stop skip of the playback.

My loves have switched places,
a comical transposition,
Discordant.

I do not want to say anything,
do anything
to change the suspended animation
of my belief.

It's too early in the morning
for flits and gaps.

One of a woman's comely attributes
is her naivete
and ability to turn a blind eye
and shine a false and brilliant smile
to that which she cannot see.

A man must want to give his trust,
leave nothing to the shadow,
nothing to turn from;
remain in constancy
and cross the distance
between miles and measures.

Give me the major key
in steady cadence
that unlocks all doors
and lights my eyes.

Or give me nothing.

I can sing my own song
solo,
in perfect pitch,
a cappella.