The Good place

What would you write for a girl you barely know?

I apologise, my dear
I am in such a dilemma here.
It's easy to write for the dumb and beautiful.
Easier if it is unknown and booty-full.
Unfortunately, you are none.
Then again, you are none.
that's the fun.

Well, let's start with the facts here.
I met you and I liked you.
I talk to you and I am scared of you.
This one is a screamer.
Eyes are like a beamer.
You stare for long enough
and you are bound to crash and burn.
The potato is hot.
But, then again,
The potato is hot.
Not an hourglass
more like a pot.

Jokes apart.
Please don't tear me apart.
I have a confession.
More of a realisation.
When I was a little younger.
The face was little less of a hung-er.
I had a fantasy
a design
a girl
with big glasses and small eyes.
uncut facets and cutting edge niches.
A stone age survivor and a golden queen
a mauling tiger but, not so mean.
And I used to
sit down
on the floor
close my eyes
and watch her work
like a pink, fat boar.
Make a story.
Run a simulation.
The wool was spun.
Maybe a little bit of fun.
Everyday story had new thing teach.
A new mistake to preach.
I made a muster.
Then I made her better.
Then I made her perfect.
Just like a scientist.
Every epiphany was a eureka.
Just like Archimedes.

But now,
the scientist feels plagiarised.
Archimedes’ head was iced.
They should incur a fine.
They made you.
They stole my design.

But, he also agrees to the fact
that even though,
this one had a stolen dough
he was sold.
You fit the mould.

Ignorantly, I believe
after days of introspection
I guess,
trying to answer the question;
‘What would you write for a girl you barely know?’
The answer is;
you can’t.
It is an utter farce.
But, you should.

As a poet.
As a scientist.
I look at you every time and write about it.
A new poem.
A new simulation.
A new story
for the very question, at me, you throw.
What would you write for a girl you barely know?