On the track
standing above me
she turned and spoke.
“You don’t really want to walk do you?”
A statement. Not an enquiry.
She said I wanted to be with her
was attracted to her.
Stammering retractions and denials
are met with a softer tone
and a slow advance.
anorak tenting breasts – at eye level
knowing dark overthrows uncertain twilight.
A decade and a half older
mother of four
seeking attractiveness, settling for hormones.
“Did I want to go with her?”
Go with her
a euphuism not heard before
but needing no translation
desire passes straight from hope to urgency.
Did I know a place?
A smile gives permission.
I’m not permitted to look…… stretchmarks.
furtive glances prompt another question.
Had I ever seen a naked woman?
Once at 18
In an indifferent smoky room
where women are paid to remove their clothes.
“That doesn’t count.”
An invitation to a private viewing.
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