If I could find that prickling spark
That has for so long been guilty
of igniting the hormonal flame
What would I do with it?
Would I know it had struck my senses
Before beginning its torturous work
On my already punch-drunk heart?
And even if I did have warning of its coming,
Could I stop it by slamming down the shutters,
Shielding my cowardly soul from further risks?
I doubt it.
For when I find some fair-faced Goddess
So near to me at the bar it makes my mind shiver
I cannot speak without a drink
Swirling around my guts and brain,
Coating my shyness with a shiny gloss of confident smiles,
Concealing a tremor in my throat with beer-flecked quips
And both applauded by a hacking smoker's cough.
Having gone through my act
And realising there is nothing more to laugh at,
They leave.
For I am too shy to bring the real me
Into the bright lights of life's stage.
He is too much in the shadow
Of that blustering advance guard
Who in the soberness of daylight
I curse with bitter sighs of frustration.