By Sonam Kaloti, Arts Editor
I spoke with a fine young woman today
who confirmed I am desired and pretty.
Her radiant smile brings sun out from gray.
I wish I could be nearly as witty.
She speaks with decadence and saunters home
leaving me wondering what is amiss.
Her kiss in my head… I am not alone,
yet her bright red flames douse him in a hiss.
Please dance with me, woman, I need you here
to show me the way to bliss. Oh, I could
feel you, taste you, never reminisce. Dear
woman, if you were real, know I would.
Alas, she solely exists in my mind
distracting me: blind to all that’s not fine.
