Black hair cut short, a bit of stubble;
black shirt, cropped sleeves, a scarf, dark jeans;
a gaze that says, let’s make some trouble;
goes to the gym, he’s muscled, lean.
Not my type, I should stay clear;
I take anxiety meds, he has no fear.
What could I possibly see in him?
But I’d like to go out–or maybe stay in.
T. Allen Culpepper