When an Object Comes to Life

These other men, whose methods
Beggar mine, have come to you
With credit cards, bouquets in hand,
And cleanly shaved and sharply
Dressed, they woo you from their
Drivers' seats, their boxes in the
Opera house, and tables, on which
Slyly peeking waiters pile splendid
Food. Their words are silvered,
Unlike mine, but, surely, at this
Point, you know they want no more
Than what I wanted: not a friend,
A lover in the truest sense, a mind
To meet; they want your flesh and
Reputations. Go. You haven't too
Much time. I wish you well. I do,
Renee, and wish I still could think
Of you as do these other men.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 12 times
Written on 2011-08-07 at 12:47

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