“You’ve got
a waterbed? ”
(always said
In the most lascivious of tones) .
“Yeah, well...it was there
when I moved in
...takes up all the room! ”
“Takes a bit getting...
used to...at first...
you’re...sea sick then...
floating in Heaven! ”
It was like
a furniture aphrodisiac.
Everyone wanted
to know what it was like
to make love in
...on!
I said: “I don’t
know! ”
People shyly... slyly
invited themselves over
to “test” it.
Both male
& female
hinting: “Wouldn’t I like
to know? ”
I politely said:
“No! ”
Or,
changed
the subject!
Went back to being
Major Tom
floating in a universe
of loneliness
weightless….loveless
cushioned by rubber & water
listened to
wind & rain
attacking my
window pane
humming to myself
“Love Hurts”
with Gram Parsons
& Linda Ronstadt
I held out for a year
repelling all “comers”
including an attractive
work colleague
who looked just like
my ex
denouncing me
as queer
to all & sundry.
“So what? ”
I thought
taking the wind
out of her sails.
But you...you
just wouldn’t take NO
...for an answer
& like a future
wife to be
(& knowing what was good for me)
invited yourself
over
with a chilled
bottle of Chardonnay
& a copy of “SOME
LIKE IT HOT! ”
We spilt more of
the now warmed up Chardonnay
than we drank
laughed uproariously
at the movie
forgot the bed
talked non-stop
12 hours
before finally
making love
as the dawn
inched...its... way...up.
The waterbed
...forget it
(we forgot it) .
It was just
me & you
& us.
Next week
it was Paris
&
married.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem