I for you

How long can you pay for one
mistake, and by you, I mean
“I and you”
or “You and I.”

The uninterested books I read
looked at me and said for you
to compound it out
over a lifetime,
if I had the will
and capital.

I long mistook that one
you for an I.

I, for you, paid,
to cap it all.

It must have been my turn
to mistake it,
so I left you
to the others.

Other chances,
other places,
other times, too,
I left to you.

You’re not infinite, I know,
I’m just infinitely inclined
for another go
at you and I,
our blanks checked,
our books balanced,
and our accounts divested from false
superpositions of I and you.