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"Father-figure Skating"

Keeping one foot on the ground for us both
when our love is on the rocks
and trying to avoid the Freudian-slip from your lips.

In this rink,
I hold you aloft by the hips,
to rounds of applause that drown out your words that you see me as a Father-figure.

In this rink,
I hold you aloft by the hips
to rounds of applause that drown out your words that could limit me even looking up your skirt.

Applause that drowns out words
that could leave us both needing a shrink.
Maybe it's better we never leave the rink?

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