He comes out of the house nearly naked,
wearing only his black draw-string shorts.
Not a body-builder, but he works out;
lean with muscles taut and six-pack abs;
has tattoos, but they’re not overdone.
Whether he’s handsome or not, I can’t say;
or rather I do, but it would be bad form,
and I don’t want to go sailing over handlebars.
But I can resist a glance back over my shoulder
and see him do a pull-up on a tree branch,
so it could be that worldly sophistication
is not the strongest suit that he’s been dealt.
But I’d have to play at least one round to know.
T. Allen Culpepper