After ***
Abela
likes to lie

in the bed
listening
to duets

from that guy
Puccini
-I get us

some coffee
from the small
kitchenette-

isn't it so
romantic?
She asks me

from the bed
sure it is
but what are

they singing
about it's
foreign words

I reply
carrying mugs
to the bed

where she lies
**** naked
invitingly

words are words
it's the sounds
that move me

she tells me
I put mugs
on both sides

of the bed
on small side
cabinets

I climb back
into bed
Puccini's

getting her
in the mood
she eyes me

runs fingers
down my thigh
kisses me

on the lips
on the chin
on the cheek

my pecker
stirs himself
from slumber

not knowing
what hour
day or week.