Will to Consent

She helms a boxy conveyance; within, the allure of vigor.
Operating with sleek command, and fluency,
Her craft accretes those of us who share her passion,
Young and old, we coalesce around her.

When I visited thus, it was brief and electrifying.
I was granted to dock, temporarily, my rig,
To her ship. My engines were not even to cool,
Lest I forfeit this privilege.

There are no written rules here, it's all implied,
To visit her station is to merely exchange
The coin of the realm for the desired balms,
Then one must be on their way.

To me, she is like a bird in a gilded cage,
And I am allowed to flit about inside, very briefly,
And listen to her song.  Perhaps even to cast,
With admiration, on her bright plumage.

Anything more than a brief glance would signal,
That more than admiration is happening inside me.
It would be a tell, that she is being coveted,
That I carry an urge to possess her.

And this is true.  My eyes point at what I desire,
She knows this, so, I look at her when I speak,
And when she is speaking to me.  But then, I must feign,
Interest in the aloes or the bottles of capsules.

To her, unless I speak my absolute truth, I will just be,
Another in a long line of clones.   I'm no longer an original,
I've replaced every cell countless times, willed myself to heal,
Yet my ardor to consume her never quits me.

It would be very easy for me to just ask her for coffee,
Then, I might receive a very clear, "no,"
And this would settle the issue forever.
But then, I would feel unwelcome, to ever again transact.

So, helpless in my masculine stupor, the notion arrives.
To be a man fully possessed of myself in her presence.
To utter my sole truth, with a light yet serious heart.
To remind her that only the fair would contemplate the fair.

Here.   "Do you know any great writers?"   Huh.   "Well, you do now."

It's just stupid enough to fail miserably.