Woes of a Gentleman in the Library

In an ideal world,

While I sit across you,

Cross legged and looking busy,

I would not be contemplating,

On displaying confidence,

Or conjuring up a coincidence.

Nor would I drop my head,

Into a pile of diagrams and junk,

Acting like I am trying to solve,

The questions of meaning and being,

Or force myself to drink from the fountain,

Just to catch a glimpse of your shoe.

And that is the issue; the only real issue,

In this world full of death, destruction and exams,

The questions that I seek to probe and answer,

Are not strictly metaphysical or mathematical,

But they concern the way your hair is tied,

And whether your shoes match your top.

More importantly, whether you will you sleep with me? 

Or maybe innocence should permeate my motives,

Because it is not Thursday night, and you are not that type.

And neither am I! So I would like to woo you and court you,

Like a true gentleman in tryst with a pleasant destiny,

And maybe we could have a cup of coffee or tea at Degree's.

But you are too far away, a table to be precise,

And your friends, or what I would call parasites,

Who stick on to you like ticks and tendrils and leeches,

Don't seem to understand the immense importance of,

Leaving you the hell alone for two hours minimum,

So that I can, like a smooth casanova, make my moves.

But you see, things are not as easy as they seem,

And one wrong move and I could say good bye,

To our coffees and our books and our beds and your shoes.

So let me not be an awkward tourist in your land,

And make a fool out of myself in front of your friends,

For ancient wisdom asserts that the latter is suicide.

So I shall sit here, where I have been sitting all along,

Resigned in patience and willfully submitting to this world,

Hoping to reach the comfort of my room at night,

And before closing my eyes, catch a glimpse of your smile,

Once again on the empty screen that permeates our lives,

With Norah Jones in the background, singing 'Feeling the same way'.

And maybe in my dreams, in some ideal world

There would be no script to the way we meet.

Of course we know each other, but just not enough,

To talk and to share and to touch and to kiss,

To feel and to listen and to experience all there is,

Or just sit next to each other in the library, in silence.

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