Every girl
wants one.
Every girl
wants at least one
guy staring at his thumbs.
She can call him up,
he's happy to hear from her.
His voice cracks,
“How are you?”
“Tired”, she says.

Every girl
wants one.
“I like Rick
he’s a sweetheart,
he’s my pal.”
“I wish the guys
I dated were more
like you.”
But they’re not.
Never will be.

But he’s happy,
more than happy
to wear a suit,
to help her move.
Working like a farmer,
he carries her stuff
without resting.
Boxes, records and books,
left by other guys,
who never
help girls move.

Every girl wants
at least one guy –
nervous, warm,
staring at his thumbs,
staring at her
empty hands,
but settling for
the feel of her bed
against his face,
while he moves it
down the hall
to somewhere else.