Comes light at the end of the night,
Where in half-hearted acceptance of day
We squint at the rising sun with feeble attempt
At the refusal to acknowledge each other's presence.
No, I haven't discovered yet
That from my equator down through the Tropic of Capricorn
I am flapping like an eel to add insult to injury!
So, who talks first?

What I'm thinking:
On the single occasion I stole a glance at her,
I wouldn't come to terms with me having had it,
The fun that's not so obvious from that look on that face,
The noise that would come out of a gob that quiet -
I remember being the gentleman I've always been,
I covered up my indulgence with a toneless whistle
Amidst a trickle of sweat I've never experienced.
Did it actually happen?

What she's thinking:
I don't know.

What I think she's thinking:
There were one or two odd moments when I thought
He quite rose to the occasion - untimely -
Look at this mockery of a man
With a reputation preserved in sarcastic songs
Who on his day is as slow as the old river;
Lo! I remember the squirm of nerves from the event
The waterfall of contents when the bottle popped...
Did it actually happen?

What is happening:
We are lying on the same bed as close enough
To the opposite edges as our consciences can allow,
Both naturally relieved but not thinking so.
Anything else that might be said would be funny
In accordance with the unwritten rules of awkwardness;
Wondering whether to scream out "Oh God, no!!"
Or indeed, "God bless Jack Daniels!"
One of us must go put the kettle on...
Now.