Putting It On

Shirt buttoned,

Belt tight.

clean pants,

putting it on tonight.

Wearing a smirk,

on top of a smile,

dimpled and cheery,

to cover the denial.

Hair brushed smooth,

parted and straight,

beard trimmed,

to attract a mate.

Planning on sophistication,

humor and wit,

in conversations and play,

with lovely women unable to commit.

Putting it on,

an outfit like armor,

in desperate hopes

for amour.

Classy cocktailing is the goal,

yet swilling down plastic cups of beer,

and stumbling through mumbled

concerns and bleary fear.

Looking nice, being nice,

polite laughing at the right parts,

yearning inside for a pure

meeting of hearts.

Being undone,

taking it off,

no pretentious exterior,

or cynical scoff.

To be undone by her smile,

to expose the raw twitching nerve,

and dismiss the phony, polite banter,

and get the one we deserve. 

Interior and Exterior soliloquy

battle for control

in this unending search

of being made whole.

The back and forth of what

to do and what to say, in defiance

of the heart, the soul, the mind,

arguing about compliance.

My shirt is buttoned,

belt is tight,

my pants are clean,

I’m not ready for tonight.