Just Beautiful
Is What You Are
Just Beautiful
Like the proverbial tiger, dear Asha, I hunt you, but am often met with a sad dismissal by which you revoke my man card.
I can depict graphic scenes with us thus enthralled but remember that I get these strange inclinations to play it safe instead of chasing you to the limits of my competence.
Please let me love you, give me some kind of incentive to cook you the perfect meal which you wait for with drooling anticipation.
I can’t put a brake on it, my love, either direct or indirect, I see it headed for a crash.
Your sex makes me stir, but you don’t like to keep your eggs all in one basket, so there are the other lovers, the ones I would eject from your life if I could.
You hold up a mirror to the world, and suffer no abuse, for your frame is that of a singer who braves the stage and tells you how it is.
In a past life you must’ve been that striped beast, qualified to kill at random, but content to write in your notebook — a little piece of poetry here and there about how you get too hot too fast and that you have to slow down.
When the light turns green, I go, and I drive and drive without a break.
