376 Poem by RIC BASTASA

when he sits beside her
she knows what she wanted

him

and she pretends that she is just
nothing but a girl
whose hands are small and so fragile
and he of course
will be tender to any kind of girl like

her

but she is more than a girl now that
he must know
she knows where to touch him
and tell him
you are sitting beside this

woman

he must take a look some more
her eyes are not innocent
he will remember the eyes
of the woman
who slept in bed with him
last night
this smell that she has stolen
this smell
of a woman, now she looks at him again
lingering
if he still sees the same little girl
whose hands he thought
are innocent

and so fragile.