it isn't as simple as approval.
or selling myself to appeal you
It isn't as bold as fear
or direct as moral limits
It makes me waver.
It unbalances me on this periwinkle issue
this silvered wire above the popcorn crowd
I, who can dance on a cotton thread
shake to shambles over this choice-
do you know that every glance
sends a shocking smile to my face?
and my gaze is sewn to your form
with steel cables?
But deep within the swirling hurricane
of soul and self and colors bright
two sides of opinions are in a fight
a civilized duel
of clubs and seals
to take responsibility for how I'll feel.
You smoke pot, it seems
a lot. and I do not.
But for you, what would I not do?
I have trouble enough
putting fantasy in it's tiny drawer
and it sneaks out in high definition
when I'm at my most sober
Why should i ever desire
alternate state of mind
produced by leaf and fire?
why should I deny
a new experience, a bit of risk,
a chance to lay my hand upon your thigh?
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