Skirt-as-a-dress

I'm thinking of you

in your skirt-as-a-dress,

you, so tiny

it covers enough

for modest

but not enough

for clean;

I'm thinking of

your playful

"Someone was hitting on me"

while your hair dries,

and water beads

on shoulders left bare

by your skirt-as-a-dress,

Knowing I'd become

a beast, and claim you

because I know this game

is foreplay

and you want

me to want

and I do;

I'm thinking of you

under me, slick

and screaming

in an empty house

though it always sounded

songlike;

I'm thinking of

being all beast

and your words

all but gone

only my name

Over and over;

I'm thinking of

fantasies made word

but never deed;

I'm thinking of now

and the date,

And your

someone else

who can't

get

you there,

But there was always

leeway,

slack

in the bonds of my fantasy,

And

until a few days ago

you could have exploited it.

Now,

though I can still remember

my name

in your musical sweetness,

though I would have loved

to be the other man with you once more,

to see you walk up the stairs of my new

place wearing only your

skirt-as-a-dress,

to hear you call my name

one more time,

You

Missed

Your

Chance.