DARE TO TOUCH

DARE TO TOUCH

So many prohibitions in this picky world,
So many should’s and do not’s,
As the white flag comes unfurled.
The white flag of surrender
Flies everywhere you go,
From Mona Lisa in the Louvre,
To the art of Michelangelo.

I guess I understand it, for art lives on forever,
If not for eternity until the twelfth of never.
Keep it safe for future views,
Preserve the brightness of the hues.
Every line of the Mona Lisa’s face
And the Sistine Chapel’s holy grace.

Don’t feed the deer or animals in the zoo,
And please beware the big black bear
Whatever else you do.
I understand these warnings too.
They serve quite well both me and you.
Protecting nature from us fools,
Like kids on field trips with their schools.
Adults who stray from the beaten path,
Alas to feel the torment of the grizzly’s awesome wrath.

But we are in a relationship, and hopefully not a zoo,
And I am but a mortal man, standing here before you.
I beg you and beseech you, I am not Michelangelo,
And I am not da Vinci, you’ve no need to break my code.

I am not a grizzly poised to eat you in the park,
I just long to feel your loving hands caress me in the dark.
Perhaps I’m old before my time,
Perhaps you feel you’ve bagged your prey.
I know you’re tired and weary
And that work consumes your day.

I know perhaps I’m stern and scary
With this grave Parkinsonian mask,
But by all means look and by all means touch,
You shouldn’t even have to ask.

So many prohibitions, sex should just be hetero,
So many should’s and do not’s that a good man could implode.
I am like America, I long to be explored,
Come to me, my brave Columbus, and lick my every pore.
Put me under the microscope, I long so to be seen,
Peruse me with the gusto of your favorite magazine.

It’s flesh on flesh I long for, your touch and your embrace,
To feel the coarseness of your beard as it sweeps across my face.
I need some tongue to keep me young, and though it’s fallen out of fashion,
I need some steam to fuel my dreams, I need a little passion.

I am not Sheldon Cooper, I’m no fussy Felix Unger,
I am a dead man walking, with a strange sad case of skin hunger.
I need to feel the lock of your lips, I miss it all so much.
Come to me, beloved man, look at me and dare to touch.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2012
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED