the pauper prince
of paper flowers
remains unwed
his nimble fingers fashion
impoverished overtures
to little effect
beyond his own anxiety
upon their presentation
( a roughly semi-annual spasm)
his sunstroked wire thin arms
are not unstrong
oft embrace an old guitar
wring a longing
minor melodic line
that slips and quivers
along the fretful neck
sad sweet guy
of dark dartful eyes
expressive brows
i doubt you know
the Boricua princess
places playfully
your handiwork
between her fragrant breasts
throws her head back laughing
adoring your dearness
oh so platonically
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