GETTING IT — NOT

 

He lounged in the doorway, shirtless

Against the blistered blue paint.

Light curved around his torso,

Sculpting the biceps that muscled his pecs and        

Kissing the caramel nubs of his nipples, and   

Rippled down the dimpled ridges of his abs, and      

And I looked up and saw

His hair the color of sunlight,

His eyes the color of rain.