Early Breakfast 1972 Poem by Terry Collett

The hotel restaurant
was not busy
a few came in
bleary eyed
and silent
like a breed of nuns
or monks
of a silent order
and took seats
at tables
far from each other.

Abela and I
came in
and took a table
by a window
and looked quickly
about the room
then at each other.

She picked up the menu
and stared at it
as if it was in
a different language.

I'll have a simple breakfast
she said
after last night.

I studied my menu
running my eyes over it
me too
I said.

We both put our
menus down
and waited for a waitress
or waiter to come to us
and take our orders.

Music was playing
in the background
foreign stuff
which you could neither
dance to to listen to
with any zest.

She looked tired
as she sat there
her hair quickly
brushed into place
a minimum amount
of make up applied.

She had on a yellow dress
with small flowers.

I gazed at her
thinking of her
the night before
after we came back
from the town
after the concert
where some pianist
had played Chopin
and Bartok pieces.

We had got
into our room
and she was swaying
(we'd gone to a bar
after the concert)
and she undressed
as fast as she could
almost falling over
a couple of times.

Come on
she said
get them off
I want you.

I had undressed
as quickly as I could
in a kind of race
with her.

She won
stood there naked
and swaying
as if she stood
on the deck of a ship
in rough seas.

She lay on the bed
and beckoned me over.

I took off
the last piece
of clothing
and set it neat
over a chair.

She had gone to sleep
lying there
naked and bare.

All I could do
was sigh and stare.