You know the type

shy, cursed with the beauty

of a girl's face

    paws

on him

as soon as they saw him

available

    not

a chance

of escaping the lewd

word, inappropriate touch

or the stirrings

of his own feelings

of otherness

    shame

eventually his soulmate

the constant

bickering

in the birdcage

where he played pretend

at marriage

    love's

sly game testing

his manhood

past his endurance

    nothing

profound

about his existence

except he kept

a lock of his mother's

hair

in a safety deposit

box

    sad

reminder of

the opposite sex