(Curtain, and stage right: sounds of ecstasy)

Harlequin angel, transitive

     victim, desire’s recent refugee

strokes a dry palm on the smooth, black belt

          discards dimples at the corners

flashes pink and white to show

               without a doubt, handsome, we’re down to business

unasked, unbound, unafraid,

          under any pretense that can be contrived

never

          never

     never

surrender.

Don’t give yourself up to naked intimacy.

          A glance askance behind domino eyes,

says, I’m so totally coming to your place for dinner!

     Alright, but, I don’t know, you’re twenty years younger —

               Whatever. I don’t see any other hotties

trying to pick you up in the express checkout line.

     There’s that look  —

Hold my spot; I’ll go grab a another steak, some wine …

                    chuckle as you waddle back to the cold case, sweet

     visions of the slick carnal web you’re sure to cast

          for the mere price of burned meat,

never

           never

       never

   surrender.

Don’t fly a white flag to sex-starved expediency.

(Curtain, entre act, the café is out of decent white wine)

You think she was serious, partner?

Go ahead and wait,

 I call last laugh.

Why don’t you go back to your place,

at the end of the line,

whip yourself with that belt, you deserve it.

 Under any pretense that she can derive

     unasked, unfettered, unafraid,

mouths any promise, persuades

          without a doubt, dreamer, she’s doing business.

               Strokes a rough palm on the hard, flat belt

     discards a dimpled smile…

abandoned harlequin, desire’s

                     recent transitive victim, angelic refugee

never

          never

     never

surrender.

Life is too short to expect divine immediacy.