The affair

I feel possessed when you come ’round.
Vampire of my affections
that I save, unknowingly,
to cast, as pearls.
Lost upon you?
So nervous you are.
Just a touch makes a static spark,
and you jump back, mistrustful.
I hold out to you my right hand,
and slowly shutter my eyes
in token of obeisance.
I may, I think, know the art
that is needed to quiet your qualms.
A studied gentleness of touch.
An equal and opposite reaction
to your fickle withdrawals or to your nuzzlings.
As I stop my strokings,
your almond eyes register their displeasure.
I feel a petulant bite.

See you later, alligator.

No tuna for you tonight.

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