To all of us who love T. C.
Why is it him we want to see?

Could it be his deep blue eyes?
Or is it the hint of his desire in disguise?

Is it those muscles,
rippling through his shirt?
Or those lips,
smiling in an unconscious flirt?

We all love him,
and we're proud to diplay it.
And of the accordian,
yes, we want him to play it.

Yes we love our T. C.;
Yes we are sane.
And if he want to do pull-ups in his tank top and cammies,
we sure as heck won't complain.

© Jessica Fry 1998

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