Focus.
Don't think.
(I must not think)
Focus on the red hightop
and the beat it marks;
absorb the music.
(about his slender fingers)
Don't think about his gentle hands caressing the guitar strings,
or derivatives of trig functions,
or how he dances to silence,
or the way he laughs,
or Davy Crockett,
or sofas.
(and how they'd feel)
Above all,
don't think about
those deep black wells
that he hides behind his glasses.
(on my bare skin)
Just focus on the red hightop
tapping the red carpet
lit by a red light.
(doesn't red sybolize sex?)
Don't think.
Focus.
Forget, if you can.
(just go home,
light a red candle
and pray your sinful prayers . . .)