The fire in her eyes tonight
calls forth the thought that they invite,
though I recall, not long ago
my absence seemed more apropos.

The smile that lingers on her lips
says more than many verbal slips -
the times it pierced me, sad and grim
lie in the past, though far from dim.

She flayed me once... nay, more than twice,
she flayed me both with flame and ice,
and once again, predictably,
she primes me for catastrophe.

The curious naively watch
her try to carve a deeper notch,
for even they don’t claim to know
the depths to which she’d really go.

Upon my face a smile appears
which hides my thoughts, obscures my sneers,
for now I too have learned the rules
from her - ah, yes, the best of schools.

Because I’m acting somewhat cool,
thus pouring on her fire, fuel,
she  burns and yearns and wants me more
than when I was her cuspidor.

Since, unbeknownst I’m not the same,
she plans again her guileful game.
But when her teardrops seep and swell,
will she be proud she taught me well?

The others leave, I stay behind
(they all know what she has in mind)
and take her in my arms once more
then slip her through her bedroom door.

She whispers secrets in my ear,
as I once did (she didn’t hear);
I listen with a mirthless smile
while thinking of a desert isle.

The night is passed, her trusting grows;
I leave before the morning glows.
Aroused, she’ll seek a waking thrill
but find instead a dollar bill.