In A Coffee Shop

A sexual quandry.

Must you sit like that

   You leave no middle ground

      Between ice-queen and s**t.

 

You open powerful thighs and arms

   Invite with bedroom eyes and red mouth

      Offering yourself in public.

 

I cower, crick in neck, and blush

   Escape with tearful eyes and set mouth

      Clutching my self-respect.

 

The ice holds white-hot flame

   Either ignore you or embrace you

      There is no middle ground.

 

(My ice tower is burning down

   And the fireman is the arsonist.)