i fear i’m too much of a gentleman for your tastes,
walking among the thieves and liars you’ve longed to mate,
i fear i’m too quiet to be your next love -
your next escapade.
cat calls,
she seems to only know:
walking the cement, looking to be heard,
she knows not, to respond to her name.
i know i’m too meek to get her attention,
no ma’am or miss, will go heard -
for she only knows the cat calls she’s heard.
not her beautiful name, i've always perferred
whistles and howls:
she grows from the attention of their hands,
slapped ***** and turning masses,
she knows only the attention of the crowd’s pleas -
cat calls,
she seems to only know:
walking the cement, looking to be heard,
she knows not, to respond to her name.
she knows not, to take the blame -
until time, has been all but lost:
to her seeking the attention of the men
who only know her for midnight’s sake:
i fear i’ll go on & on,
seeking the one who knows the language i try and pass,
for all the misery i’ve learned,
i’ve been taught:
cat calls,
create only as long as their brief escape -
but letters and photographs,
well, they’ll pen our future for decades’ maps
they can have their cat calls,
their attention to the mere masses -
but i’m in love with a women,
i haven’t even met, yet.
