eros

Morning Wood

after 'Norwegian Wood' by Lennon/McCartney

I dreamed of a boy

I wish I could say he dreamt of me.

He stood in my room

Isn’t it good, morning wood.

He told me to watch

as he took off his clothes one by one.

I couldn’t say no

when he promised me that we’d have fun.

I lay on my back watching the show

fearing he’d go.

He was down to his briefs when he said,

‘It’s time for bed'.

He said, ‘You’re quite old, and me,

I’m still in my teens.

I’ll do anything that you like

but it’s all in your dreams.’

Then, when I awoke, not so cool,

he’d gone to school.

So I had a long lie

Isn’t it good, morning wood.

The Fool

He walks on by in his tight white pants

that handsome boy, so arrogant –

self-sufficient, thinks he's cool,

not knowing he needs me – what a fool.

He glides past, aloof as a swan,

grown like a man, cruel as a child,

not pausing even to toss me a glance

let alone one of his heart-stopping smiles,

leaving me desperate, down in the dirt,

scars on my soul and stains on my shirt.

His pretty white bottom moves off into town:

once I was him, now an old clown.

Shorts

or, The Lovesick Student

They’re soft, smooth and silky

and though they’re made for sports

I just want to make love to

my tight white football shorts.

I love them clean or filthy

long or short, all sorts

old and faded, young and fresh

my bulging little shorts.

I eye well-fitting uniforms

sailors in the ports

firemen, guards and bell-hop boys

squeezed into shorts.

Everyone’s gone swimming

I just have steamy thoughts;

it’s a sunny day but I won’t play

I’m inside with my shorts.

If they come to call me

I’ll say I’m out of sorts

I don’t want to come outside

I’m coming in my shorts.

But if you teach me kindly

and give me good reports

and love me too, I’ll go for you –

have me in my shorts.