Your hair is the least substantial yet most outwardly striking
part of you
Like a pillow coming out of a dryer,
A perfect cliff before slowing descending back down
I can never get over your hair soft and with
allegedly no gel.
Either way Jesus ( who is not white) should be jealous.
It’s not just your granted stunning hair that makes
me fall for you.
Your ability to flip my reality on itself, then
twist me the other way before laughing and
confessing that you were facing another direction completely.
I will never know which direction you raced, nor
do I care all in good fun and to show off.
A laid back disposition calm, easy
a scholarly gentleman.


Don’t mistake me for some fool, finding music
then falling for the guy playing the harp.
Also for the readers if you have any problem
with this poem about how gay it is for a guy
to serenade another guy, I would
strongly advise you to make sure your calendar is set to
the correct decade.