My lady Jamie, being all classy and shit, wrote this dirty
ghazal for her man friend. That's right, we write poems for dudes. Hot dudes. And it's not even Valentine's Day!

When I see tall, thin men, I wonder if they wear underwear
and more over, what sort? Boxers, briefs, tight fitting underwear?
Talk, more than that, whisper close to my ear, share
things that will make me think about what is under there
Depending on the date and the intention I will take care
to choose the laciest, least complicated underwear.
You and I fumble, undress, clothing flung on chairs,
afterwards, post-cuddle, we search for items - under where?
The secret I keep as you come as close as you dare:
to choose the laciest, least complicated underwear.
I have a thing for beards and all sorts of facial hair
so if you offer me a mustache ride, I'll take off my underwear.