Was she brooding, or assiduous, he wondered
while she disrobed before him and looked
for direction. And what might she think
of the body's pageant, later, post-encounter, when
now slips into memory and then. She feels
his warmth reach her loins and things change
correctly for a few minutes, followed by a few
casual moments of examination and companionship
until a boredom returns, headed toward loneliness.
She dares not scratch an itch and instead
turns toward some calico hills where, already,
a few scurrilous things are starting to assemble
and shine.
rdking