• by,
    (c) Bbear
    7/2/09

    You look at me from your place,
    on the left at the table,
    dazzling a metallic glare.
    I touch your long, thin torso,
    for a miniscule instant,
    a slight cold shock runs through, my
    fingertips to my shoulder.
    Your funky U-shaped head with
    pointy liberty-spiked hair
    makes me feel like you could, would,
    potentially threaten me.
    I grasp your torso, and stab
    those spikes into delicious
    crusted tilapia placed
    on top of your flat round friend,
    who once ran away with that awful
    big headed cousin of yours.
    As I eagerly lift the
    warm tilapia now stuck
    on your spikes into my mouth,
    I feel how sharp those spears are.
    And I wince, my eyes closing,
    telling myself to slow down,
    or your radiant beauty
    will poke my soft cheek again.
    As I sit and pace myself,
    my mind drifts to a new place.
    If I were a red headed
    mermaid from under the sea,
    I’d call you dinglehopper,
    and use you to twirl my hair.