The first time I saw the red black dragon’s flare
Peeking over your tight T-shirt’s neckline,
I thought if this wasn’t the first time we had met,
I could have said something sexy.
Instead I settled for – you have a tattoo.
Your shoulder blades stiffened, the dragon blushed
You turned to face me now,
Sheltering me from its fiery breath.
I felt less flushed.
You nodded simply. It was enough.
I perked up more, began to entertain designs
Of dragon-petting.
So do you have a boyfriend?
Guys think the tattoo means I’m a plaything.
How to get boyfriend?
The blushing came rushing back,
I had the sudden inclination to hunch, look somewhere else.
Conversation happily deceased, I slunk away.
But I’m glad you asked, Stacy.
It may be usual for guys
To think of your red dragon
As an invitation to play,
But I can’t apologize to you for them,
Because I thought that too.
Blame the dragon.
Khayaali Pulao 