a poem by John Starks, USA

They reached a place where method was denied;
Where coy desire was difficult to track;
Where intimation somehow learned to ride
Upon a proposition's naked back.
They reached a place where they could push and shove
Without appendages, those marked or seen;
Within the scope of their apparent love;
Without the hugs which marked a purposed lean.
But that they fought was what they'd not confess;
Ostensibly, they'd simply play the friend:
Their curses, foisted, did appear to bless;
Their wills, as tempered steel, were hard to bend.
They reached where subtlety was oft at play,
Or earnest dialogue had little say.

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