Engineered Poetry

The courtesy of eye contact
with people I pass on the street
was not a reason to assume
I wanted beneath your sheets.

The choice of a certain seat
where beauty was next to me
was not because I wanted you
bent over or on your knees.

The haze of inebriation frees
to buy beauty a drink at the bar,
but this was never an attempt
to stain the backseat of my car.

The magic of making love is far
from putting my penis in you as you call it,
it seems you think I need all beauty
conquered in order to enjoy it.