Dating

If I were
a manuscript unedited 
how would I 
separate my life 
into some sense
by loves by
lovers by triumphs 
or by tragedies 
through rambling prosaic 
trains of thought 
or clipped vague 
secrets and suspicions 
how does anyone 
make any sense 
of anyone else 
enough anyway to 
be coyly entertaining 
enough to keep 
the reader reading 
if only for 
that first date
and maybe the 
possibility for another