What, This Man?

Question bleaking, a part of his tone , body peaking.
Rythm broken- Pockets dropping!
Smothe black skin shimmering- sweet lavender scent weaning.

Rain drops hit my window late this afternoon, of my downtown flat of Sin City.
This man, I write of is so pretty-
Gone is he to his parcell, lot or tree..

I ask myself - If he were a dog, would he chase a cat to a tree?
Of course- he is not this, not an animal.
So what has he chased, ran after, or ran away?

Over a year's time has passed;
I've known him little. At moments, all it is is tiny moments to be with him.
I leered at him lesser now, now that stays a distance.

A quick treat I take; to hold thought upon his loving ways.
Other postures remain as do a daze- is he lonliy or
a coward scouring in hidden guided ways?

A loud tone screaming, and betraying he let out to frighten me- shaking me away-
and since we have missed
all lovers snuggles in bed to hug and kiss.

Calls of telephone nonsense ramble about jargons.
Hurrying his taxi left and right- i ponder which angle
has he turned to or positioned- in cheap casino signs.

Beauty in a unique matter desires each soul.
So for who can please what screaches in his bleakest,
narrow sought, shanty of manliness he holds?

Peering ot, as grabbing a bus- the month was cold- I was bundled..
driving by in a fancy wagon/ a man of his profile.
Alone not, he was escorted by an asian lady.

Need I write more? Each day I capture something- of more of my ten digits scanter..
Is he a devil/ A cheat... Scandelous and clad...
Or humerous/ An angle- heaven sent and a bit drab but marvelos?