On a date stroll, feeling quite dapper,
soon my stride turned into a clapper.
In the café loo, with a hopeful notion,
slathered my legs in every lotion.
Splashed with water, a cooling spree,
yet friction's fire wouldn't let me be.
Rejoined my date, with a concealed yearn,
but oh! Each step was a fiery burn.
The evening waned, my focus marred,
by the chafe so fierce, I was battle-scarred,
If only Sarrosi balm was in my bag,
The night would be mine, smooth steps without a drag!
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