did you know that you, singing
in your trim-fitting black jeans,
made me first question pronouns?
I wondered how much of a hard bargain
in your mind.
if I showed up the epitome of your desires
with one less body part
and a softer smile, skin, voice,
would you have jumped on the back of my bike?
I yearned to be that guy.
The one with the hellish look in his eyes
that made all the other boys tremble.
I’ve had it all in my head my whole life:
the way your arms would settle around my waist
as you jumped on behind me;
the way we’d speed off, your golden hair flying in the wind,
and the way your smile would feel against my neck as you leaned in.
Sarah Frances Moran is a stick-a-love-poem-in-your-back-pocket kind of poet. She thinks Chihuahuas should rule the world and prefers their company to people 90% of the time. Her work has most recently been published in Blackheart Magazine, Red Fez and The Bitchin’ Kitsch. She is Editor/Founder of Yellow Chair Review. You may reach her at www.sarahfrancesmoran.com