Untitled

A Man and his Guitar
He holds it against his heart
Like a metal clinging to a magnet
The way he gently touches it
The way he looks at it
It is so extremely erotic and magical
And the way he plays it
It’s like he is makin’ love to it
When his delicate fingers glide softly on it
The expression on his face reacts to the sound it makes
Its string is such an electrical force
It links him with the guitar, and together
They are like specific enzymes, unlike charges
And when those fingers glide softly on the bar cords,
They create a language only he and his guitar understand