How It Was 1975 Poem by Terry Collett

How is the bed?
She said.

I felt with fingers
pushing down
the mattress giving slight,
but bouncing back
as soon as left.

Seems good,
it will suit us fine,
I replied.

Draw the curtains,
keep out the eyes
of office workers
across the road
who may peer in
while we make love,
she said,
as she undressed
in a further
reach of room.

I drew the curtains,
and watched as workers
in the office went about
their daily chores
like unliberated bores,
then drew the curtains closed,
and began to undress.

She had undressed first,
and climbed into
the double bed,
and waited
resting her head.

Once undressed,
I too climbed into bed,
and lay beside her
snuggled up close,
kissing her arm,
breast, and later the rest.

While we made love
in the bed,
no thought was given
to the poor souls who worked
across in the office
across the road,
no thought of what they
must have thought
as I drew the curtains across
to block out their view.

We made love again,
and again after that,
the sky beyond the curtains
turning a darker blue.

The workers home
with their lives,
and husbands,
or lovers,
or faithful
or unfaithful wives.