I saw a man on the bus today,
he looked like your sort.
Dark skin with darker hair and
very fine prominent cheekbones,
with just enough beard to look
scruff but smart.

Ah, to be scruff but smart,
dapper, suave and rough.
As he brushes a tuft of his hair
behind his left ear
I smile to myself creepily.
I'm not afraid to admit
I was thinking about how
I could write all this.
Then about why I thought
that he'd tickle your fancy.

I guess I didn't really.
I suppose I took to my own liking
and assumed he'd
look good next to you somehow.
I can't say I know why.
Though I believe
a straight man is entitled
to an opinion in this case.

The same way a woman might
talk about how their waitress
had stunning eyes or
wonderful hair that shines
without being even
the slightest bit greasy.