The chess player

  

Exotic glances draw you into their spell.

 Teasing, cuddling, supple,

 flirtatious breasts lean out

 of a festive cleavage at will,

 calling mainly for Alpha males:

 they grant the already

 hard-to-get permission for seduction operations.

Hands no longer grope childishly,

 pensively, hesitantly

 - but the staring, bulging eyes

 actually strip away the exotic glare.

 Amorous flirtation begins

 in quickened rhythms,

 culminating in closed-circuit

 cat-and-mouse battles.

 

Open, insidious smiles keep

 you on a leash or off a leash:

 no one knows who is

 keeping whom on a leash?

 - He plays only self-discreetly,

 curiously portraying and looking

 before him, as if petty secrets

 had a life of their own.

When hesitant calculation sparkles

 on each other,

 insinuating pseudo-pleasures

 into themselves, 

the newest luring words

 of the All-enticing All-ness

 rise up on the cellar-lady

 of their primeval instincts.

 A single gesture can be worth

 a thousand betrayals,

 when no one is what they

 originally intended to be. 

When all the forgivable lies become one,

 and fuse together.

 When the lonely ships

 of the heart come ashore

 and find port in each other.

 When everything is just so,

 the head may buzz 

with the bribeable,

 the deluded brain may be dulled

 - the secret as the final solution

 has long since been

 wasted by the profiteering

 of the businessman.

- No one can know now where

 the Beginning and the End may have begun

 - the layers and the blood

 are peeled from each other's grasping gaze,

 willingly and perhaps generously.

 Past and present at once snort,

 grumble, and grumble,

 with one accord, 

at their rude vicegerents.

 The pushers and the shakers

 still try, but when all

 the games are over,

 the raw meat is reality!