Staring at you became my favorite past time –
Not that you care or even acknowledge my existence.
You are so obviously “out there”, so obviously not mine,
But running from you is a futile resistance.
Daydreaming about you became my kinky hobby –
Not that I’m ready to confess any of those secrets.
But lately I’m forgetting myself and becoming sloppy,
Behaving, like we are of the same ilk. Almost equals.
Or may be it’s a late night, and too much martini,
But I wish, for one glorious night, to be your genie.