Poetry on a theme: girls, women, chicks, ladies, females,
and a gaggle of lasses, I guess; I must confess, as though
it weren’t obvious, it’s easier when I write about you.
There is an ease, a particular sinking feeling, (I
stagnate in the comfort) when it’s decided, “okay,
today, I’ll say ‘I love you,’ with words.”
And absurd as I feel, as much of a
cop-out is appears to be, it’s hard
for me to see you, and not
come unglued; whether
you wear a skirt/dress/
the rest?) I’ll fall hard.