I can’t speak to you with an unbuttoned blouse
I can’t stop dreaming about what might be
My eyes drift as I’m quiet as a mouse
I can’t help but objectify all that I see
I’m trying to be your gentleman caller
My purpose was to be on an even level
But you have me squirming a little taller
Falling for you again as you’re perfectly disheveled
Wanting to dance naked
Instinctively wanting to go down
Perfection within moonlight
Wearing her like a crown
Hearing her voice serenade
She’s what dreams are made of
Drifting off to Neverland
Knowing how Southern girls love
Time to float off into another world
Close your eyes & drift forever away
Within silent storms of a castaway girl
Reimagining visions before finding the day
This is where I’m lost
You have me bothered & hot
Though you’re hardly to blame
I’m thinking of your sweet spot
Memories of your beauty
My mind drifting off track
With you dancing softly
Though I’m here alone in my rack
Dark clouds forming over the horizon
Storms threaten to assuredly comply
A day drifting away without recourse
Dreams hang-dogged in the evening sky
The slow buildup to another slumber
I tried to be reasonable, but I think too deep
Took a leap, but might’ve been too far
In the end, relegated to remaining the black sheep
Forgotten in the ether
Against the stones on the shore
Fatigue hitting hard at sunrise
Before the day might restore
You cannot outlive a memory
Our fates left to a diminished chance
Bound to the sea by luck or force
Drifting silently with suspicious circumstance
Dog eared postcards & other totems
Words from home to quench the tide
Meandering scribbles in the margin
Dreading the prospect of another ride
Wilting roses by the fireside
Coffee warming bones chilled from the boat
Drifting thoughts to stagnant memories
Thawing words from poems you never wrote
Incomplete rants are broken thoughts
Antique shutters dangle in the breeze
Vaccinated by expired truth serums
Eye twitches; our hostess is ill at ease
Yet remaining upright on the page
Our fate wrapped in a trickster’s charm
Subtle strokes without remorse
Only dried ink leaves us disarmed
Subverting all the easy answers
Sacred is our fundamental right to choose
However your speculations drift
Cut the devil’s throat and wrap him in Winter’s hues
Captain Q 