O Lover

How would I touch you?
Your legs are far too sharp.
Your hands hang, like hams,
Too far apart; your face
Is like an ape's, and true, you're smart
-- but smarter than you should be,
Than I would be --
Or so you told me
When you wanted love.

Unpack yourself for primates,
Try the warmth of a giraffe, graph
Your sighs on rising lines,
Accelerate the times. I'm
Busy hanging worlds on a string,
Too busy for a fling,
So sing the song to someone else.

It is a nice song, I'll admit: pretty
Quick and leads to kisses, but it partly misses
The point -- the times are really out of joint,
And everybody's napping
So what's the point in sapping?