You pick up the book
on Schopenhauer
that Benedict had been reading.
You scan a few pages
then put it down.
Benedict is in the shower
showering after the sex
half hour back.
You had been first
standing there
feeling the hot water
freshen you up.
Soon you are going out
to the City to go see
that pianist play
a selection of Chopin
and Debussy.
You go to the window
and look out
on the grounds
of the hotel.
After the concert
dinner at that restaurant you like
and hopefully be served
by that Croatian waiter
who sends a tingle
through your nerves
when he speaks
and his eyes are on you
and he does stare so.
Benedict doesn't notice
he is so busy ogling
the passing female
waitresses to notice you
fluttering your eyelashes
at the waiter.
Hurry up Benny
you call out
over the Puccini aria
on the radio
nearly time to go.
Won't be long
he answers back.
You remember him
the night before
humping you
from the rear
saying
won't be long dear.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Ah, the pleasures of the flesh as adjunct to the pursuits of intellect and mind. A beautiful lyric. I only wonder what tattoos they each have adorned their bodies with.