I think you're nice
but I won't worship you
not for your love
or even your
Beauty
I like your smile
but I won't worship you
you're not a dress I had,
that makes you one I hoped
but even so
I do not walk the floor.
You're on my mind
but so is last week's rent
I couldn't pay
for all my money's spent
on roses which I send to you
unnamed
and poems that I have sent to you
profaned,
but I won't worship you.
I'm not a man of pride
It's just that I'm intense
and must subside,
so I won't worship you
you're not my type,
too innovent or kind
without respite.
You're what the mother ordered
just what the doctor wanted
but even so
I think you're thin
or plain,
you're too naive
or maybe too urbane
I will not worship you
you stalk my nights.
You lie asleep above me
out of sight
you seem too casual
or too stiff
or too friendly
or too neglectful
I don't know what it is,
I just can't worship you
I wish you'd ring.
