That Russian
novel read
in Paris
afterwards
with Schubert
being played
on the white
radio
in the cheap
hotel room
Sonya stripped
down to those
skimpy pink
underwear
invites me
to remove
a present
for you to
unwrap and
see what's there
she whispers
I unwrap
her slowly
the ripe fruit
the soft fig
my two lips
watering
come pluck fruit
she whispers
plough my deep
soft valley
sensuous
apricots
Schubert plays
in the air
Paris sounds
filter in
from the wide
open window
as I plough
and pluck fruit
and kiss her
sweet soft fig
come on man
she mutters
in my ear
with hot breath
dig dig dig.