it's something else

not tonight, she says.
i'm not feeling it.
I'm not in the mood.
head ache, again, you ask
her scratching at
your toes
covered by black socks.
yawing and stretching
as you flip through
the channels on the tv.
no, she says,
staring at your feet,
your white spindly legs
that run up
to your striped boxer
shorts. no,
it's not a head ache,
she says.
it's something else.