End-Run

.

With a sly grin
and an unblinking stare
he imparts a sudden hunger.
With a firm hand
upon my trembling knee
he conveys a secret desire.

I know the grin
and I know the stare,
I can feel the fear in my heart.
I know the touch
and burning desire,
but I will not be the quarry.

With a rogue grin
and a devil-may-care
tone, I express interest.
With a strong hand
upon his crotch, I squeeze
until he feels the fire.

I know the pain
is superficial,
but this is not an end-run.
I know the beast
and why he comes here,
but I’ll be his prey no longer.