stockings

i don't care for tights

she says

and does not tell me why

she hikes her skirt above her knee

revealing one brown thigh

i see

i say

and wonder at

her slender little fingers

how cleverly they pull upon

the threads of recent slumbers

do you know where friendship ends

and passion does begin?

it's between the binding of

her stockings and her skin. she stayed up so late i thought

she'd ask me to go dance

but something in the way she laughed

told me i had no chance

the fiction in her family

was that she was never nice

i'd say she was very

i just did not see the price

do you know where friendship ends

and passion does begin?

when the gin and tonic

makes the room begin to spin. there may be attraction here

but it will never flower

so i'm assigned to read her mind

now

in this witching hour

here's no game for those who claim

to be easily bruised

but how can i complain

when she's so easily amused?

do you know where friendship ends

and passion does begin?

(when she does not show you

the way out on the way in) --

it's between the binding

of her stockings and her skin.