I wonder if my fingers can
Explore you on my new divan
To find your limits; what I am;
To what extent you are my fan.

My body stays awake to plan
Our next encounter, higher than
And wider than my proud wingspan
Last time, beneath your un-suntan.

But I feel like the Ku Klux Klan,
Though guiltier; a mad taipan;
In fear of being less a man;
A clumsy, dumb orang-utan.

Yeah, sure I'd like to be Chopin,
To partner you in some pro-am
Performance; share your monogram.
I must be just an also-ran.