based on a painting by Jean-Honore Fragonard

With an air offlirtatious abandon,
I kick off my pink silk slippers.
Surrounded by thedark forest,
I am in the spotlight of summer sun,
bathed in glory,swinging back and forth
as you gaze at me from underneath.
As I swing, mypetticoats rustle,
each layer of pink satin and gauze
opening, blooming inthe face of calm breezes.
You wait for me, a dazed and sleepy smile
slowlyspreading across your face.
You reach for me, you in that heavy gray suit.
I merely laugh.
I have seen the likes of you before.
I have inspiredthat same smile,
that same slow cat-like stretch of your loins.
A winkand pout grace my face,
but they are not for you.
Do you knowthat?
Those porcelain angels stand on fountains
just behind you,
stillice-cold.
The angel presses his hand to his mouth.
"Shh," hesays. He knows. He's seen me here.
The same loving glance, the sametinkling laughter.
Still you reach for me.