Ever since the day I was just someone
in a room full of people
where a guy was playing guitar,
and where two beautiful girls
whispered, giggled and then agreed
guys who play guitar are so sexy,
I have been thinking of it;
wanting to play guitar.
I can write a poem, yes,
but it’s not the same as playing guitar.
As being that guy, strumming and crooning
in a room full of people,
pretending not to overhear
when a beautiful girl
whispers to another,
who then giggles, agreeing
guys who play guitar are so sexy.
If I could play guitar,
and if I found myself playing sometime
in a room full of people
where, let’s say, two beautiful girls
have just agreed it’s so sexy,
then I could announce the next song
– Eric Clapton’s Layla, for instance –
saying something like,
here’s a song for all you beautiful girls,
which, after all, is more or less
word for word what I’ve heard said
in rooms full of people
by guys playing guitar,
and where beautiful girls
have been whispering
and giggling and agreeing
that guys who play guitar are so sexy.
But that’s all if I could play guitar
and not just, instead, write this poem;
is if I was in a room full of people
and not a room by myself.
That is if I could hear the whispering,
the giggling, and the agreement
of two beautiful girls
and not, instead, this complete silence
tending to be the difference
between a guy writing a poem
and a guy playing guitar.
