I would rather pretend
to be reaching out
to touch a high branch,
blissfully ignorant
of your hand
stroking the edge of my skirt,
grazing the curve
of my supple bottom…
and You,
with all your age-old intellect
and worldly wisdom,
become enslaved
to a bout of lust,
which dodged reason
and passed through your fingers..
while I,
with all my nubile youth
and innocent visage,
wearily regard
another straying idolater,
paying homage to nostalgic desire,
and let it pass.
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