Platonic Play [poem]

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platonic_play

“Sometimes I think you have one rule for me
and another rule for you — wanting to be free”.
So said your husband, a shake in his voice;
[He loved her with hugeness — he hadn’t a choice].
You do what you want however much it hurts;
your sting camouflaged in the folds of your skirts.
You live for the moment (your moment that is)
and with such a lifestyle you find nothing amiss.
For the ‘moments’ of others are not your concern;
empathy’s closeness you don’t want to learn.

So you carefully set up your false alibis
ensuring your conduct is done in disguise.
Then sneak off to meet with a man you call “friend”
at a party and with him the whole night you spend.
At first you deny that this ever took place
and say that “suspicion is such a disgrace”.
“If you loved me you’d never think such nasty things”
and still to your story you doggedly cling.
But then the confessional spills from your tongue
and out of your mouth this song will be sung:

“So what if your jealousies
prove to be true?
I live my own life
and what’s that to you?
I spent the whole night
with a man yesterday
who I met on the stairs
of the house where I stay
(or was it next-door
somewhere near anyway).
A meeting of minds —
how he blew me away!
I slept on his couch
after hours of play;
his masculine longing
was such easy prey.
There’s no need to worry
or be frightened of
anything. I assure you
we didn’t make love.
(Well, not with our bodies
but only our words
which flew round in the room
like skylarking birds).
I captured his heart
I could see from his eyes.
Mission accomplished
my needs satisfied.
Oh please don’t be worried.
Please don’t be upset.
It was just with a friend;
on his sofa I slept.
Okay, I admit
it was more than one time
and the last one was right
before your lips met mine.
But you know you can trust me.
Well I hope that you do.
If you tell me you don’t
then I’ll have to leave you”.

Yes, you so love to play with the poor hearts of men
driving them wild so they want you again
to dazzle and shimmer in front of their eyes.
Just how much you hurt them you don’t realise.
You say “It’s platonic” so your man will be fooled;
but you know very well that inside they drool.
The latest to have you with him for the night
ran away on a boat he was so filled with fright
when he knew that with others you had to be shared.
(No wonder your husband got so fucking scared).
So long as they make you feel good in your soul
That’s all that you care — you can feel in control.

Sooner or later your cockteasing ways
will to all your poor victims your motives betray.
For if they can get past their burning desire
(pretending to be on a plane so much higher!)
they’ll notice you couldn’t care less who they are
as long as they see you as their brightest star.

© 2011, Alan Morrison

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