At the clubhouse
in Malaga
in the base camp
I danced and drank
in turn
sometimes
at the same time
sometimes I sat it out
at the bar
and smoked and drank
with Miriam
you dance good
she said
you reckon so
I said
yes you dance ok
she said
she sipped
her gin and tonic
and looked
around the club house
the disco music
is a bit old hat
she said
it's ok
at least
you can dance to it
I said
we sipped more
of our drinks
and sat in silence
for a few moments
Picasso was born here
she said
what here
in this club house?
I said smiling
no here in Malaga
she said
read it some place
I don't like his art
she said
makes me want
to throw up
you sure it's not
the booze?
I said
no I mean
when I see it
she said
I love his art
it speaks volumes to me
I said
poor you
she said
I see nothing in it
each to their own
view of things
I said
Picasso touches me
don't I touch you?
she said
wouldn't you rather
be touched by me
than Picasso?
depends on the touching
I said
he touches my soul
where would you touch?
she giggled
and sipped her drink
be telling wouldn't it?
you didn't complain
the last time
I touched or rather
we touched
she looked back
at the dance floor
and at people dancing
not my fault
if the tent
was too small
for much action
she added
looking back at me
small is beautiful
sometimes
I said
she gazed at me
with her bluey green eyes
her hair in tight curls
I’d let you come
to my tent tonight
she said
but that fussy cat girl
is sharing with me
always yakking
about her cats at home
as if I cared
what she calls
her darn cats
and what she does
with them
what about your tent?
she asked
no I got the ex-army guy
in with me
and he talks on and on
about his family
and how they don't
understand him
and how he got
chucked out the army
and so on
a Beatles song
was playing
I got up to go dance again
and she said
go dance Benny
go show them
how its done
she leaned on the bar
her eyes closing
I danced
drinking the dregs
thinking of the last time
I lay
between her legs.
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