Listen, she is merciless as a Saracen.
My poor heart jumps for its den at the sight of her,leaving me a little breathless,
wobbly, tongue-tied, what a mess.
'Scuse me Miss, what lovely teeth you have,
pretty maids all in a row,
the better to slay me with.
Her voice is cream to the cat, I'll fall off the fence.
dazzled and stupid, upside down on the ground.
She wears tortoiseshell glasses,
she's a rocket scientist distant as Mars
because I am shy, uncertain, starstruck, clumsy,
knocked over by the fragrance she wears,
gone from austere bookworm
to clueless spaz
with no escape except into the stacks to recover.
Like a ninny I return to the shrine,
her reference desk lair
where I hope to inherit a word or a smile
to check out and take home and keep
like an overdue volume.
That's when I'll go back
and say to my librarian crush,
"Hi, I'm your fool, can you help me?"
And hope, like an idiot, that she can.
________
I adore this and totally relate to the clumsiness of speech and footwork when faced with such a paragon. Love "her voice is cream to the cat, I'll fall off the fence." The ending made me grin.
ReplyDeleteLesbyterian? Ha! (Sometimes your labels contain gems just like your poems.)
ReplyDeleteWhile I found this hilarious at times, I also was struck by the fact that the actual bones of the poem remain dazzling, flashing with all kinds of colored lights and brilliance, from the very first line to the overdue volume. It's never heavy-handed or sloppy, just funny and sharp, and pure Shay. Loved it.
ReplyDeleteThere is something about the combination of smart and beauty that can make one swoon. I can relate to this in so many ways, and love how you have spilled it out there into a beautiful work of art. As always I am in awe....sigh! :-)
ReplyDeleteI am so happy you used the word 'tortoiseshell', just perfectly to add that detail to the object of infatuation!
ReplyDelete