I bestow the imposition of my emotions
on you. You started it. You imposed
your erections on me. What was I supposed to do
with your erections? forget their urgency?
impossible, as an instrument in their coming to be
you could not ask me such a thing. My roles,
instigator, worshiper, abater, user, permit me
such imposition. You beg to differ, I know.
Too late, too late, I cry. You should've thought
about it before you introduced me to one of life's
true pleasures, not after. Not while still imposing.
Not even now, older and wiser as we are.