caught

im the one who can't give you what you want      
that hangs around hoping for crumbs of your attention      
that humps pillows to find dreams      
imagining you walking across the room      
knowing im staring  
...      
     
...bla bla bla.  
from the corner of a dark wooden bar      
i write      
making believe i like whiskey but simply borrowing time      
       
im scribbling in white in a small blank book      
all the words that should not be said      
when in you walk      
i imagine your permissive nod      
for me to rub your imagery between hope and shame      
and i begin my objectification      
with docile authoritarianism      
       
i phrase adoration bejeweled with desperation        
with silent letters      
invisible to a moving eye      
i worry and am cautious        
to not be glaringly offensive to Female radar      
keen and rightfully onguard      
     
and i am caught      
my harmless intent offers puppy eyed apologies      
       
‘what are you doing?’      
       
why should she not have the right to invite herself to my table      
my eyes were all over her      
       
‘i’m painting you with words’      
       
‘so you are a creep?’      
       
‘but i adore you.’      
       
‘i thought you were a leg man’      
       
‘oh i am’      
       
she lands her palm upon my words      
her ruby red nails shimmering      
and claws my book towards her      
my mind now naked to her eyes      
       
she struts like a robin in the chill of a new spring day      
i, an ornithologist      
gazing        
her staccato path as mesmerizing as her pale thighs      
i wade in her glory      
       
must all muses beckon their admirers?      
are they not perfume of the world      
a ripe sky for oils and acrylic        
to find their way to canvas      
through the messy soul of an artisan      
shall i ask ‘may i?’      
to the trees tips tickling a purple cloud      
before brush drags its wares      
     
‘i see.’      
       
she pauses      
       
‘carry on.’