Wanting a Poet

You are soft lips
spread into a smile

Dimples crown your cheeks
and I wonder
what
it would be like
to kiss you.

That mouth caresses words
like waves of flames

Sets me off easily,
exploding with images you conjure
with suppleness, quickness, and grace.

I can't imagine your tongue
to be anything less
than pleasure itself.

Then you rock me with that wicked sense you have
of the world,
the way you see my weak attempts to get over on you
with meaningless words
cause you know what my game really is.

You know when I speak truth
and any time I'm not standing here
solid with my shit, is a game I cannot play
without you calling me out,
exposing me for the fool I thought
I got over being long before you were born.

You laugh, roll your eyes and snap a line at your girls
that has them looking at me like I was the
country boy seeing a skyscraper for the first time,
shocked, bewildered, and lost in concrete and asphalt,

hadn't shaken the straw out my hair,
the shit smell out my jeans.

And there you were hitting me with those eyes, those lips,
and that smile

making me grin like an idiot and throwing
my tattered bag over my sholder
and strolling down the street
like a pimp in a bad blaxploitation movie,

Like Huggy Bear bellbottoms were back in style and I
was wearing coveralls and humming John Denver or Neil Diamond songs,
looking just that foolish.

But, you are kind, take my battered ego and say,
"yes, you can sit next to me, maybe ask me out

and maybe even buy me a poem"