The Poet

I walk in and she sees
me,
holding the door
open
for the girl behind
me;
all I see
is her clevage
from the corner
of my eye.

Cover blown,
but not the last
point of contact
before the days end.

Hours later,
she sees me,
I'm caught
unaware,
under a pheromone spell;
girl walking by says
"last night
I lost my virginity to it"
so I thought,
as the couple walked
by.

A slim figure
of speech,
it could be anything,
but I can't help
thinking erotically.

The red headed
guy
bursts out
laughing
alongside my perversions.

I bet she went
ten shades red;
how fitting.

I'm the unknown
spy;
the poet,
searching
for a pair
of orange shoe laces.