Michael Cluff- A Poem

Tension

Hiding beneath
a blue sharkskin
suit
double-breasted
and white briefs
is a hairy beast,

the real me.

Waiting to pop out
touch my red with brown and
blue diamonded tie
and then

yanked it off
throw it
or me
down on the couch
to yowl,
gyrate
and then growl.

It would not happen
now

too much work
teaching
to do.

The glean
and gleam
of my black wing-tip shoes
irritates me
yet

unendingly

and the belt,
a perfect weave
of leather and brace,
buckle
becomes too encircling,
tensing,
encompassing
constricting

tight

as the morning,
paper grading,
she,
progress reports,
he
passes me by.