Daydreamer

Not for me
Such Heathcliff tales
No bodice-ripper
Do I crave

I’ll not succumb
To doe-eyed slave
I thirst for more
Than hero-brave

An aspiration
Of romance
In modern times
Has not much chance

Of blossoming
To fruitful lust
Amid this dance
Of little trust

We feel our way
From bed to desk
And sleep en route
Deprived of rest

So few our moments
And well-spaced
No thunderbolt
Mid rat-filled race

But gaze at fellows
As we pass
Their eyes as cold
And hard as glass

Where nothing tender
Is betrayed
We human souls
Are yet afraid

The loneliness
That seeps through cracks
Means even couples
Can’t relax

For mated, settled
Set-up well
We miss what first attracts;
The smell

And nostrils flaring
Leave the nest
Searching for
More fun, less rest

What is exotic
Fuels our dreams
Thus life unravels
At the seams

Driven

Your face is a poem in the orange light
The frown creasing your features is a map
Dreadlocks form a waterfall of past thoughts
Kissing your cheeks like the memory
Of long lost loves and campfire songs
When your moonlit stumbles shone
An aphrodisiac for the would-be-hipster
Craving the coarse touch of a real man
Tonight finds you alone, a mere vision
Bobbing along in the cab of a van
To the comforting tones of The Wailers