Maybe, Baby

“Maybe, Baby”

It’s the maybes.
The “may this be”.
The “may this have been”.
The “maybe it will be”.
The Mays that have been.
The Mays to come.
The maze amazes me.
Maybe I can be.
Maybe you may be.
Maybe I am a maid,
may be.
Maid of honor,
house maid,
hand-made.
May that be
what it has made me.
Maim me, mate.
Be made and custom-make me.
Maybe.

Lately it may be
that “maybe” is getting to me.
May be maiming me,
eating and unmaking me.
May that be as it may be.
I am used to man-made mazes and hazes.

Bees and fees may be
making their way to me,
I will make do.
Wanna-bes and Seem-to-bes
ask to be my Made-for-mes.
May they be for the girls made to be
the shadow of a wanna-be.

The maybes.
It’s the maybes lately.
Left in me is a May to be.
The rest has been consumed by maybe.

Certainty may just be a malady.