What a pleasure;
a woodland drive on the edge
of a cliff
with James Dean,
glamour by the sea
A star at work,
fawning over me
We will be
in the gossip magazines,
you and me
and evening chatter
about how things
are supposed to be.

If I was your date, I'd try to be sweeter
than any other fruit, hotter than the land,
that grows me, stickier, than
chewing gum, and honey.

If I was your date, I'd remind you that,
You can't have me for more than a day,
for I'm a polyamorist, I love everybody.
I'd remind you that I could be your last,
someday, any day. But that shouldn't,
stop you from loving me, right now.

If I was your date, I would share
my gaze of you, in the silent reflections,
of my convex eyes,
tell you that on this date,
you are the only 01.01.01

I’ve tried really, really hard
to not look like I’m trying-
See? I am Super Girlie-Girl
for one night only.
Every detail attended to.
I’m even wearing kitten heels
for ****’s sake.
(quite literally, I think)
I’ve gone for pretty…
(or as close as age allows)
... not at all scary.
I’ve no idea what we’ll talk about but,
so far, I’ve managed to say hi
and not stare at his hands.
Still thinking ‘bout them though.
I’ve seen him play guitar-
‘nough said.
He’s grinning and I wonder,
briefly-
If I might’ve let slip as words
some of these thoughts but,
since no one near by is rolling round on the floor
******* themselves laughing-
I think I’m safe.
He’s just given me the most beautiful flowers.
The deepest red roses, all half-opened velvety buds
and frothy white gypsophila.
(it’s one of those bouquets)
Closer,
almost burying my face in the petals-
they smell delicious.
That's done it.
Even without a context- that word turns me on
but now?
My brain is seriously misfiring.
Pinging thoughts and words and images around
like a demonic pinball machine.
Oh Dear God-
I hope he’s not a mind reader.
How long, do you think- can I stay
hidden here in these (delicious) flowers?
How long before I need to try one?
Before the urge to lick and taste and bite-
overcomes me?
That just wouldn’t be cool, would it?
Not on a first date.

I get distracted by little things
It looks like I’m hunting love
I know I want Love
But then I get distracted by simple momentary things
I know who I am supposed to ask out on a date
But, seems easier to ask someone else
Because I’m too scared to fall for that person
And get “we’re just friends” as a response.
“Hey I love you why you telling me your dramas about the guys you like but end up lying and hurting you?”
I think
But I never say
I just listen
“Don’t be fooled” I say
“I won’t” she says
Weeks later she telling me the same old stories
“Try me”
I think
But I never say
“What if she is telling me to ask her to be mine? What is she thinking?”
I think to myself
Gosh, I wish I wasn’t too scared to lose you as a friend
I wish you knew I mean it when I say I missed you every time I see you after two, four or eight months
I wish you were mine
Just mine
I fantasize about the things we could be doing if we were together
Then I remember what we had
Were we too fast?
Was it a perfect thing on a bad time?
I don’t know, but
I loved every little moment
I told her she’s one of the best things that ever happened in my life
I meant it
When did we **** this up?
When did we become just friends?
Am I in love?
How can I win her back?

(to be continued)

.
No my Darling, that is not snow.
Its not winter, it should be colder.
No my Darling, that is not snow.
Its just dandruff on your shoulder.

No my Dear, I am not in pain.
Neither am I hurting, or showing grief.
No my Dear, I am not in pain.
Its the lettuce in between your teeth.

Yes my Love, I am listening.
I was just temporarily distracted.
Yes my Love, I am listening.
But your friend is so attractive.

No my Sweet, its not that draughty.
Its not windy, you've got it wrong.
No my Sweet, its not that draughty.
Your skirts caught in your thong.

No my Darling, that is not snow.
It can't be true, its a wrong fact.
No my Darling, that is not snow.
Its just ******* on your compact.


© Pagan Paul (31/03/17)

At dinner for two
I chose a tasting menu.

Chatter was pleasant,
Until the sous-vide pheasant.

Conversation digressed:
My faults were expressed.

I did not forsee,
A deconstructed m
                                 e.