Tim

They say,
your gender’s,
not into
visual
but I know,
You are
‘cause I caught
a picture of him
hiding,
in
your journal drawer.
and
if looks,
don’t really matter
then why’s he hanging,
on our wall?
Steve McQueen’s,
in the bathroom
he’s ten foot tall,
and I’m feeling,
Small.
And you,
Can’t hide it
When I catch
You
In a trance-like
Close, your eyes
To his voice
melodic,
disembodied
I wonder what’s
running through
your mind.
‘cause it seems,
you never seem to
save
that kind of
lavishment,
for me
is it because,
we’re too familiar?
Or do you,
Really,
anyways
and I never,
noticed
that you
Can,
see.
So screw
the posing,
And the
Posture,
‘cause
I don’t need it,
After all
Steve McQueen’s,
lonely,
in the bathroom
But I’ve got you
Far down,
the
hall.

Chrissie 09.27.06