It was all part of the scheme
of things Henry thought and
even when the women looked
at him with that odd curiosity
he never failed (at least not in

the beginning) to make a score
usually with one of the females
less prettier than the ones who
left before and after taking her
for the drink and meal routine

and maybe to the cinema he took
her back to his place and poured
her a drink and put on a cool jazz
record on the hifi and set her down
on the sofa and she talked and he

watched her lips move the lipstick
red the kind his mother used to wear
and her nose was kind of pointed and
lifted up at the end and her words
went over his head he wasn’t interested

in her philosophy of being or what
she had bought at the last sale he
studied her chin the way it rose and
fell as she spoke the words pouring
out and he said look Honey I know

you like to talk but how about you
and me going to bed? Oh she said I
haven’t told you about the time I
went to New York and so Henry lay
back on the sofa closed his eyes

and let her talk a jazz saxophone
filling in behind her voice the record
turning her mouth opening and closing
and he thought of time passing and
remembering his mother’s red lipstick

mouth scolding and after boredom had
set in deep he drifted off to sexless sleep.