Daydream

I knew that look—the one that she gave me
like not even Jesus could possibly save me
grace and forgiveness forever withdrawn:
“Arrest him at sunset—his head rolls at dawn.”

I may have been poor and I may be a man
but I can’t stop resenting her looks and her tan
and her rich-kid persona of “better-than-thou”
and the strong implication that I was to bow

but the worst of it all is how perfectly thin
and my heart skipping beats at that “look and die” grin.
Or maybe the worst is the fact that she knows
that my extra appendage (apparently) shows

that I’m naught but a pervert , a boy with a leer
to treat with contempt and occasional fear—
I’m so tired of that and her righteous beau monde,
and if I had the chance this is how I’d respond:

“I would never presume to accuse you of wrong—
and I don’t think I’m here speaking only for me—
all I want is the chance to deserve your disgust
to prove to you just what a pig I can be.”

But should it occur—and I know that it won’t—
that a man should so please that you find yourself charmed,
I pray you to hold back; be not quick to judge
for in time you may find yourself wholly disarmed.

And forty-five chocolates and three diamonds later
I’ll mess up as planned and you’ll name me a traitor
you’ll tell me my words were a poison-laced cup
because “all a guy wants is a chance”—to fuck up.

There will be no forgiveness, post-parting discerning
But I’ll watch the world when it ceases its turning
Sad smile, my companion till I cease to be:
For what it was worth, it was worth it to me.