The legs of your wife
Are a fact of life
From which as we chat
I avert my eyes
Unpersuasively.
They walk by themselves 
In my room at night,
Sit crossed at the knee
And worry me.  They
Know what I’m thinking.
Few things are quite as
Bright as the legs of
Your wife.  However 
They are not always 
Perfectly shaven.
One hears a faint but
Unmistakable
Scratch when she rubs them
Together.  These marks
On my face are not
From the legs of your
Wife.  Recently I
Ran into the legs 
Of your wife perched on
A barstool, tightly
Crossed at the thigh, and
Said hi to each in-
Dividually.
They pretended not 
To know me.  Maybe
Someone was watching.
I don’t always know 
What the legs of your
Wife are thinking.  Still,
I must confide to
You my growing and
Disagreeable
Realization
That the legs of your
Wife are in love with
One another.  I
Am excluded.  We
Form a romantic 
Triangle, me and
The legs of your wife.