- Erotic Poetry
- Off at Nine
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Her waitress uniform was soiled
pasta sauce and coffee boiled
on the stove, the road-side diner
to me she couldn't have looked finer,
She got off at nine p.m.
and just before, she asked again
if I was certain I was free
if she and I were meant to be,
I told her it was up to her
the rest was a bit of a blur
I think I know what we did
the secrets that we both hid,
The next day back at the work
digging post holes with some jerk
we went for lunch and she was there
a summer flower in her hair,
She smiled at me and I smiled too
she brought our burgers, without a clue
not a hint in her eyes
as she wiped her hands on her thighs,
On the uniform she wore
but as I walked out the door
she said that she was done at nine
I told her that would work just fine ...
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