My arm, as if a foreigner to me,
Slips quietly around you in the dark;
I did not order this effrontery
Nor can I disavow it as a lark;
For there's a part of me that wants to reach
Around your shoulders, pull you close and tight,
And learn, from a straightforward way to teach,
Exactly how you feel. So every night
I wonder if I dare - and if my arm
Has taken the initiative, can I
Really deny my own intent? Your charm,
The dark, the moonlight...all of this is why
I did it, even though I didn't know
Before I sat which way my arm would go.
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