I find myself curiously intrigued,
that you would ever pass to me
the hypothetical baton of control
when we were making sweet love.
If I had ever owned an ounce
(or whatever cursed calculation)
of powerful influence over you?
All leverage was long since lost.
Brutally revoked! Yet, a constant,
painful reminder; how swiftly tides
of a relationship can be altered.
How the flow of a powerful river
can bend and break new ground,
forge an alternate, disparate path,
whether or not we are agreeable,
even if permission is not granted.
Truth be told?
Unless a certain degree of force
is being exerted against the will,
I have never made the connection
between control and positioning.
No, I just like the view from on top!
As my Irish eyes scan the landscape,
every square inch of each hill & valley,
my arthritic fingers can then begin
to navigate, negotiate, appropriate
every crevasse, every dishy contour.
I cannot speak to how, or indeed,
whether any man's assessment of,
or interpretation of the unique role
of this particularly compelling position
influences or challenges his masculinity.
Myself?
I just find the view to be intoxicating!
