We drink and smoke
in a cafe on the Champs Elysees.
Sonya says:
you weren't
very inventive last night
in the hotel room:
it was like
a poor rehearsal
for a Shakespeare play.
I was tired,
I reply.
Uninventive
more like,
she says.
Be better tonight,
I say.
Tonight?
Sonya says,
why wait
until tonight?
After this
we'll go back
and get down
to some real sex
and with the foreplay
I like.
I look around us
and see a few
had heard her
and I smile.
She sips her drink
and holds
her cigarette aloft,
and watches
the smoke rise.
I sip my drink
and then take
a deep inhalation,
then exhale
the smoke
into the air.
I think about the night
before last,
when she wanted me
to pretend
to be a priest
and she the naughty
sinful girl.
I never quite
got the hang of it,
and was glad
when the sex began
for real and game
put aside,
and I could get on
with the ride.