For Marie

Slender fingers, her breasts twin moons,
She tore me down from across the room,
Her smile frozen but her blue-eyes glanced.
I would have been hers if she had cared,
Or had I nerve enough to dare.
But which man could have paid the price
For her long stemmed rose and eyes of ice?
Young girls like her compute their worth
And never settle for second berth.
I counted my change and prayed it would suffice.

From yards away clandestinely,
She looked me over and eventually
Moved on to assess the rest of the field,
Choosing not to transmit hints
To bend my thoughts or rattle my wits,
Now racing faster than her heartbeat.
Her cool smile won me over.
At last I could gaze upon no other,
But this living poem and perfect picture of Woman,
Who near the door, beside the bar,
Now stood alone, un-reachable.
So young and shy I thought it wise
To consider her not un-teachable.
I'd wait to share engaging words
And try to speak the un-speakable.

Content to wait 'till the moment seemed right,
Another hour into the night
Might bless this vision in my sight
With a deep and sudden yearning.
Another drink to stir up courage
And drown the simple and discouraged
Spirits who had haunted me through life.
A third to loosen up those dreams
Of Camelot and daring schemes
And castles with their towers burning.
She alone would play the part
Of Guinevere who'd won my heart
And chose to grace me as my bride.
As her Arthur I'd slay any dragon
Who slumbered deep within the canyon
And rescue the lovely lady from its lair.

But alas, my fantasy is shot
For inside strolls her Lancelot.
Incredulously he doesn't fit her.
It must have been a strange, dark whim
That made this lady cling to him,
A peroxided, sun-tanned, beach bum drifter.
Why is it when before her eyes,
I would build her paradise
So grand and gloriously rich in furs
And full of love, it seems absurd
That her heart faints and swoons to tender
This guy at best a muscle-bound bartender?

A victim of my own worst fault
I chose to wait and was left with naught.
Sure, I learned that when my next Queen comes
I'll speak out faster than the bum
And stroll into the evening with my "Lady".
But I arise ashake and shattered,
My tongue falls dumb, my dreams all scattered
Like starlight upon a tossing sea.
There'd be no time to think up lies.
They'd only sound like alibis
And couldn't spirit her away from him.
To speak of dreams is courting harm;
She perches now upon his arm,
Delighting (somehow?!) in his mediocrity.

There's nothing left for me to see,
And I feel sorry for Marie
As evening hastens toward the dawn.
I set out now to face the chill
Of rain and fog, embittered still
By he who pretends upon my throne
To own my Kingdom and my Queen.
His only asset is what is seen
And years from now is worthless at the price.
Perhaps the choice is up to Fate
Who has made the greater mistake
That Princess of a lass or I.