As you rode through Paris
in the packed coach

the radio played
Beethoven’s Piano Concerto #5

and Mamie
sat beside you

her head to one side
sleeping

her mouth open
like some fish

out of water
her hands tucked

between her thighs
her blue skirt

riding high
and the slow movement

of the Beethoven piece
began

the piano playing softy
as the bright lights

of Paris
lit up

the dull space
inside the coach

and you closed your eyes
laying a hand

surreptiously
over hers

hearing the piano
and orchestra

as if in a dream
and Mamie

never minded
your hand

on hers
or so you thought then

and as now
it would seem.