Olive Eater. Poem by Terry Collett

And oh
she said

she was always
saying that

he thought
watching her place

an olive in her mouth
and oh

she repeated
this is not

what I expected it
to taste like at all

and she licked
two of her fingers

one after the other
and quite sexually

he mused
sitting opposite her

in the French cafe
taking in

her bright eyes
and the openness

of her mouth
and the tongue licking

and she said
I thought it’d have been sharper

more exciting
more out of this world

and he thought
how simple she is

how childlike
in her expression

and in the way she utters
her words

and she looked at him
and said

what are you thinking?
What’s going on

in that bright brain of yours?
And he said

oh that would be telling
wouldn’t it

that would be
allowing you

into my head
and she laughed

and sat there
with her wet fingers

just before him
as she waited

to pluck another
olive off the plate

and he allowed his eyes
to settle like butterflies

on her breasts
just momentarily

just sufficiently
to drink in

the beauty there
and she said

do you want one?
Do you want an olive

to eat or suck?
No no

he said
and thought

I’d like another
fresh fruit

to touch
and pluck.