Moldriss studies the woman opposite,
He wants to lay his head in her lap and
Sniff her femininity, sense any sweetness
Of virginity. He can picture his head there

Lying without motion, closing the eyes,
Warming into her thighs. She sits up
And stares out of the window; her blonde
Haired head turning away, her hands

Folding in her lap. Maybe those hands
Could finger his ears as he lay in her lap,
Could lean her lips to his cheek and kiss.
He wants always to remember her there,

Her lap so inviting, just waiting there, her
Hands resting like small guards to her palace
Of joy and birth. She turns forward and
Looks at him, her eyes a pale blue, her lips

Parted slightly, her hand lifts to brush hair
From her eyes, and he wanting to lay his
Head in her lap, on thighs, imagining *******
Her nightly. She looks away shyly, watching

Trees and fields passing by the train window;
Maybe she senses his head in her lap, his
Nose sniffing out her femininity like some pig
Sniffing for truffles, his eyes closing, his ear

Waiting to be fingered by her small hand,
And he just laying there in his dream like
Some sad prophet in a once promised land.