This Tuesday Morning

[Tiger the Lion]

This Tuesday Morning

Between each tap of the snooze
I tell you I love you
and mean it

You'd want me to put coffee on 
and open the drapes

Now the sun is all over you
and my cock is granite

I let you sleep
till the last minute

[rowens]

You'd want me to put coffee on 
and open the drapes


That is what gives some interest:

You'd want me to . . .
but do I?

That kind of thing.

That, possibly typographical, intrusion into an otherwise straightforward stating.

[ellajam]

Well, the drapes are now open so maybe the coffee's on too, even though the feeling of the poem is that the N has not moved. Good morning in many ways.

You'd want me to put coffee on 
and open the drapes


That is what gives some interest:

You'd want me to . . .
but do I?

That kind of thing.

That, possibly typographical, intrusion into an otherwise straightforward stating.

[rowens]

I'm going to do my fluff gathering, which is what I call reading as much into the poem, or out of the poem as I like. If she's asleep the whole time, or most of the time, or mostly asleep at times, she'd want him to do those things. Open the drapes, put on the coffee. So it makes sense, and is the center of the poem. She would; she is in a trusting state, so not quite a helpless state, and the things he assumes she wants are warm, coffee, sunlight. So it's a kind-hearted poem.
I was a little distracted at first, because I myself always meet girls who like to have other things done to them until the last moment. I see now that he's just watching her and adoring her until the time she has to be awake. Girls I know usually don't have regular employment and so don't have to be up, or civilized, by any certain time. Though it is left unsaid what he does while watching.

Beside all that, if it's just a warm-hearted, nice poem, the time jumps in the middle like a snooze alarm would cause one to do. So everything is perfectly in order in this poem.

Though if I was Freud, and possibly Otto Gross (or R.D. Laing), I'd wonder at saying I love you and then having to say I mean it, and what it truly represents to "open the drapes."
But I'm not.

[Tiger the Lion]

I'm going to do my fluff gathering, which is what I call reading as much into the poem, or out of the poem as I like. If she's asleep the whole time, or most of the time, or mostly asleep at times, she'd want him to do those things. Open the drapes, put on the coffee. So it makes sense, and is the center of the poem. She would; she is in a trusting state, so not quite a helpless state, and the things he assumes she wants are warm, coffee, sunlight. So it's a kind-hearted poem.
I was a little distracted at first, because I myself always meet girls who like to have other things done to them until the last moment. I see now that he's just watching her and adoring her until the time she has to be awake. Girls I know usually don't have regular employment and so don't have to be up, or civilized, by any certain time. Though it is left unsaid what he does while watching.

Beside all that, if it's just a warm-hearted, nice poem, the time jumps in the middle like a snooze alarm would cause one to do. So everything is perfectly in order in this poem.

Though if I was Freud, and possibly Otto Gross (or R.D. Laing), I'd wonder at saying I love you and then having to say I mean it, and what it truly represents to "open the drapes."
But I'm not.

Interesting thoughts Rowens, thank you.

The simplest of love poems really. The poor N is just trying to be a good partner. What he wants and what he knows she would want are not exactly the same thing. This particular Tuesday morning he put her first. Bravo for the N. 

Also, any connotation derived from "drapes" was accidental. I might rethink it if I decide it's a legitimate distraction. I'm not sure yet.

Paul