prepositions is it?

What kind is this one?
The charming man with a lack of the prepositions
he’s on to you but he’s just looking at you
the kind that would make you bite your lips and follow him through a thick crowd of deep blue and silken shoulders
all dreamy and all merged to the song

the perfume and the touch of the knees

what kind is this one
why the special perturbations on him
possibly there isn’t a love interest
of course
it’s the mellow charm, the same old love for the hesitant kind
that makes you forget the under and the above

the feet dragged on to terse words
heaving for more

I’d dip and run my finger to every beat of every song
for you
not every time, not forever
but particularly the first day
and the first night


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