SOUND OF DARK RAIN 1975.

A MAN AND WOMAN IN LONDON IN 1975 AND SEX AFTER SEX IN A HOTEL ROOM

I entered you with ease
the fourth time around,
bed squeaked sound
as if in pain,
puffing out not again,
as if the bed lay
untouched for years.

Somewhere a car
backfired or a gunshot
sound going off.

Moonlight through
shabby curtains
drawn across
the narrow window bay.

What is she thinking?
I mused while riding
my way through
the valley of joy
without the 6 hundred,
her dark hair
tussled and wild.

What is he thinking?
no doubt she mused,
as she prepared herself
while being screwed,
the bed noisy
as a wounded whale,
pushing thoughts
of her husband
at the back of her mind
like unwanted stuff
needing discarding.

I pleasured you and me,
like a young yacht at sea,
riding waves
of sensuousness,
being tossed and turned
by the hands of some
siren of this wild sea.

Just us,
she and me,
her tired tits
rubbing my chest,
her whispered words,
uttered on breath,
released,
let go,
as we rode to climax
of climaxes once again.

Outside
the curtained window
the sound
of dark rain.