Terry Collett Mar 2017

Miss Pinkie put on
the Puccini arias
(she dropped the Mrs
when her husband
went off with the air
hostess bitch
he was working with)
and bought me a scotch
into her lounge.

You what to stay
the night?
She said.

If I can my sister's
got a man friend
staying over and I said
he could have my bed.

She sipped her scotch
and looked at me.

What about
my reputation?
She said.

I can sleep
in the spare bed
I said.

But people might
see you leaving
in the early hours
and still come
to the same conclusion
she said smiling.

Guess they would
I said.

The Tosca aria
was being sung
by some dame.

Do you promise
to be good?
Miss Pinkie said.

Aren't I always?
I said.

She sipped the scotch  
mostly so
she said
but you'll have
to leave discretely
can't have you
waltzing out of here
in plain daylight
or the neighbours
will talk.

I will be
as discrete
as I can
I said.

We sipped our drinks
and the La Boheme aria started
this is my favourite
she said looking at me
putting a hand
on my thigh.

Mine too
I said
finishing my booze.

She put down
the glasses
and turned to me
and said
you feeling tired?

No not yet
I replied.

Good let's go
to bed then
she said.

So we went
and she turned
out the light
and we walked
to her room
lit up by moonlight
and undressed
and got into bed.

The Puccini arias
still being sung
and Miss Pinkie
sang along in her
soft soprano.

I lay beside her
feeling along her thigh
and she stopped singing
and let out a sigh.


— The End —