TO THE GUY IN THE LIBRARY WITH THE SEXY WAY OF SLEEPING

TO THE GUY IN THE LIBRARY WITH
THE SEXY WAY OF SLEEPING

Angel man on the red revolving couch,
Your lips are closed and silent like your innocent eyelids.
Your knees hang in the air like stand-up comics.

I’ve never understood why you don’t stretch them,
flex them, relax them.

I’ve never understood why you give me such a thrill,
such a caring chill.

Such a wild, abrupt start, such a pain in the heart.

I’ve never understood quite what to do,
why it’s taboo, why I can’t touch you.

I’ve never understood why your soft blackish curls
give me such a dreadful whirl.

I look at you so soft and harmless and love you in my soul
And I tell myself you are gentle and would tear apart no one.

But would you tear up this poem and laugh at me if you knew
And send me under the willows weeping,

Guy in the library with the sexy way of sleeping.

-BRUCE POTTS
COPYRIGHT 2008
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED