Better off left in my head,
that’s what Becca said
when she caught wind from a friend
of my interest in her thin frame,
brown eyes, and her long, red hair.
But the call dropped before I explained
that Becca’s brain triggered
an orgasm in my eyes.
Becca drank wine on her deck
after work.
I moved to my deck
with a newspaper
but read her more.
We spoke here and there.
But her beauty hid her
low self-esteem.
So, for me to like her,
Becca blushed and batted her lashes.
She requested a drug test.
A potion held me hostage,
making me spill the words
of a suitor as she danced
for footing, kicking air
and the anticipation
of something special
rearranged her hunger for a lover
from the inside out.
The ball’s in her court.
Becca bathed in the cruelty of romance
She struggled to escape a lonely cell.
I spoke highly of her.
And why?
Becca couldn’t define
my motivations
because my motivations
included her, a home
and even her dog, Sparky.
I wanted nothing from her,
so, excuse me for wanting
me to share my last name with her.
We’re better off in bed, Becca said.
Warmth crawls through my heart,
and I can hold my chin high again.
All because you make me feel like me, Becca said,
embracing me on the deck of our lakeside mansion.