AFTER THE RECITAL 1972

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: September 13, 2016

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Submitted: September 13, 2016

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We're back from dinner,
and that piano recital
she wanted to go see
some pianist
at some hall
in the City
playing Chopin
and Ravel.

She's unwrapping herself
from the small coat
she was wearing
and puts it on a chair
in our hotel room
and stands there
swaying some.

Fingers, that pianist's fingers
how they moved
over the black
and white keys,
Abela says,
she gestures
with her fingers
in mid air,
didn't he play well?

Yes he did,
I say,
watching her movement,
best get you
ready for bed.

What bed already?
why the night is young,
she replies,
get to bed yourself,
I'm not ready for sleepy byes.

She wanders drunkenly
over to the window
and stares out:
what a fine night it is,
she says.

I walk over to her
and stand nearby:
bed is best for you,
I say.

What?
O I see
you want your sex
don't you
want your sex
before I pass out.

She turns and gazes at me:
no I want you into bed
so you don't fall down
or sleep on the floor
as you did
the other night,
I say.

I didn't sleep
on the floor,
I slept in the bed,
she says.

She walks swaying
to the bed and sits down:
there you are, I’m on the bed,
happy now
Mr Sexy Man?
She says,
looking at me
or past me.

Sure, but into bed
is best,
I say.

O Benny, you're such
a worrier,
here give me a kiss
and then turn
on that radio,
I want music,
she says.

I kiss her,
then go to the radio
and switch it on,
and Mahler come on
his 5th symphony.

O Mahler,
she says,
depressing fart,
here get me
out of these clothes.

I go to her
and begin to unzip
her dress
and she sits there
swaying.

Haven't you
unzipped me yet?
God I never felt
so useless.

I take off the dress
by lying her down
and pulling the dress
down over her feet,
and she lies there
fingering the air
in a conductor pose,
then I sit her up
and put on her nightdress,
a thin thing of blue
and over her head
and get her arms in
and pull down.

She just sits there
and stares:
what about
my underclothes?
Going to leave
those on ?
Don't you want
them off?
She says.

If you want them off,
I can,
I say.

She lies on the bed
and gazes at the light shade
a white thing
gathering dust.

I take off her underwear
and get her into bed
and her head on the pillow.

There go to sleep,
I say,
I’ll sleep on the sofa,
best that way,
I say.

Sleep alone then,
lover boy,
forget the sex,
she says.

Her eyes close
and I go to the sofa,
trying to sleep,
but only doze.


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