A Discussion about Fidelity in a Pub

Liverpool, UK, 7th. January 1997

 

Alone, she caught my eye–

not unusual when one is oneself alone:

attractive certainly, fine-boned,

a mane of rough dark hair, something vaguely

petulant in her radar gaze

as it swept across the bar.

The man who joined her didn’t look her type—

tall, stolid, with the moustache

of a quiet man.

A pint for him and a whisky for her,

they sat on the edge of earshot and

then she began.

 

It was a clinical attack,

surgical in its precision.

I caught “….shagging her”.

She was awesome to watch:  I was

glad it wasn’t me on the

end of that torrent, but she looked

relaxed in her anger. It was

twenty minutes before he even

made a gesture—the one the bear makes probably,

before the dogs in the bait.

She watched and chain-smoked—her lighter

like a flame-thrower. Dear God,

I thought, if she is as passionate in bed as now….

But some men can live on the edge of a volcano

while others sit and watch from

a safe distance.

 

The date is the real date of this. I found it tonight while looking for something else.

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Comments

  • marousia  On April 4, 2011 at 6:28 am

    Love the first verse – the imagery is vivid and creates suspense.

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