I don't often go in the hangar
It's locked by time and place
Still I'm attracted to visit it
I just don't often have the time
Back in the day of my youth
I behaved rather arrogant
Pursuing curvaceous women
Catapulting into encounters
Able to launch quite quickly
Targeting fueled by audacity
Hormones at full throttle
Acquiring an angle of attack
Climb into anxiety on burners
Deploying seductive ploys
Clichés, improvisations, humor
Seeking to close distances
Moves and counter-moves
Suggestions and suggestive
Comments proffered and parried
Intense suspense for all intents
High-anxiety social engagement
Hot pulsating breath and blood
Excruciating lurid anticipation
Exhausting focusing attention
Dog-fighting isn't the right term.
The women I engaged were
More than attractive enough
And adept at foiling advances
In the war between the sexes
On occasions I succeeded on fire
Sensually scoring in the sheets
More often shot down in flames
Married now, grounded
There still exists the draw
Of risking rejection for ardor
In exhilarating encounters
At times I go in the hangar
Of my memories and relive
Launching again one night
At a target of opportunity
Ephemeral engagements
Elicit warm quasi encounters
Ersatz excitement spurs thrills
Then with memories waning
Returning to arrestor cables of
Reality stopping pulsating blood
Cooling the ardor of adventure.
Longing I'm reluctant to accede
Time and place surround me.
Leaving the cockpit of lust
Empty, beckoning, I accede.
Closing the doors to the hangar