Tuesday, July 11, 2006

Bench Warmer

I see his hand
the slope of his nose
the full curve of his lips
and the fine cut of his suit
she sits nestled and proud
beside him
so sweet

The glimmer on his finger
pushes me far
alone, adrift at sea
the flash of gold
a beacon
warning all to stay away

Surrounding me
the tendre touch of others mocks:
arm draped across shoulders
hand pressed protectively against thigh
two by two they gather to worship

Was this you - in your early years?
appearing as the faithful one?
eyes infront and intent
with nary a stray thought
or sideward glance

And I wish to stop
the moments before
your full ripe lips collided with
and consumed mine
I wish to insert the ring
to hold me eternally at bay
respectful of the danger
and imminent shipwreck
upon your rocky shore


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