Having To Hide It

I want to do something wrong, Inappropriate, taboo— Maybe kiss a preacher's wife Or smooch the thin—not bee-stung—lips Of that healthy young woman behind the pharmacist's counter Or embrace with heart the wide and wondrous topmost curves Of that nurse whose flesh is bursting out at times From that crisp soldierly uniform that I adore! It's sad she thinks she isn't as attractive as before! Then too, I'd like to give way to my fancy To feel up an old friend whom I've never touched, Who sighs she never thought of me That Way, So I don't! As for my arousal, I won't reveal it, And can't repeal it. But neither will I spend much time to hide it— It's a ridiculous thing in society, Always having to obfuscate or dance around it When only the ones too young or too old Aren't constantly thinking about it! Sometimes we just host our hands in our pockets (Now that nobody smokes) And attempt to offend or hose no one at all, Even though we are still our selfish selves! Won't we ever grow up, one wonders? I don't want to be a skunk, but still Women more than moderately appeal, I ween, And I never mean to change, it seems. I am still as I was and an old man, too, So I don't expect to be loved by womankind Just because I'd like to do something wicked and wrong With just the right married girl!