affection

I was girding my loins for a desert crossing, when green

scenery was happily restored round a bend in the path,

with the laughter of tinkling waterfalls tumbling into cool

pools, full to the brim - so there I'll swim.

Trimming their shifting positions with chameleon skill,

the billing and cooing is as much a tactical ploy

as the joyless bitching, or the stitched up ruptures, decreed

indeed as fact. I must always call their bluff.

I'll puff my chest with a pouter pigeon's pride -

riding a reputation in the making - an object

for men's envy, as a lover who can pull the birds.

The word is out, and I'm ready to relish my renown.

If women love me (and might even share,)

then Casanovas of this world beware!