I'm terrified of being -that guy-
Because if it's a guy:
flirts are easy peasy, lemon squeezy,
put my hand on his arm pull close -nice and easy.
But if it's a girl: I twirl
round and about -
try to unfurl my desire just enough
so it's pleasing without sleazing
its way through my sex choked throat.
I draw back my lips and let lust sparkle out between my teeth.
If I smile wide enough I can kiss anyone
If drink I can't hold back from telling near everyone
how beautiful they are to my wanting, wanton
hopefully (desperately?) wanted self cruising the club floor
in merry-go-round spinning bliss.
Now that I'm sober it feels like it's over:
there are no dances so there's been no romances,
no strobe light starry eyes and fake fog tasting kisses -
no Up Down eye ducking (or public finger fucking).
On a scale of barely innuendo to explicit communication
the weight of my gaze shifts to balance out
the perceived gender of my current fascination.
How reductively cisgender of me.