DESIRE

At night I ask;
We play cat and mouse.
When she allows herself to be caught
It has become a chore, a task.

I know her intent.
She moans (too faintly for me.)
She'd rather roll over and sleep.
She thinks I'm content.

With all this happiness at my feet
Should I dare to eye
A woman on a train
Or walking down the street?

I could buy desire, 
Or fall in love and secretly meet.
The more I stare…I dare…I dare not!
My guilt burns me in the pyre!

Tonight she picks up a scent.
We are cat and mouse
And if we play…and if there's more,
I'm grateful in any event.



Frank Corso