Can't Stop Thinking About Colleen

Here we are, paired up by people meaning well,
And hewing to the standards of suburban taste.
You need a master's? I have one. I need a
Lithe and lovely thing upon my arm? Yes,
You will do. You say you're fond of macrame?
How nice. I am a communist. I'd like to watch
Your father burn. I see no point in pressing
Forward, entertaining fantasies of you,
Without your push-up bra, beneath me,
Moaning until morning, not that you're
Not lovely, love. The problem is, my heart's
Been stolen by someone who works with me
Unloading trucks. As such, in clinging, sweaty
Shirt, and denim shorts, she'd, surely, be
Offensive to suburban tastes, and, if you
Saw her sashay off, so solid as a Morgan
Horse, you'd turn. I don't. I stand and stare
With open mouth and gnawing lust, and all
The certainty, which you have not aroused,
That she would moan and grace my morning,
Though I know the likelihood of her consent
To doing so diminishes with every evening
I devote to people meaning well.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 19 times
Written on 2013-09-04 at 01:48

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