INSPECTIONS

The woman was not
A supermodel
But she was decent

“What do you have in your bags?”
“Dirty laundry”
“Open them”
“Do you want to see my sperm-stained underwear?”
“What happened?”

“Sometimes while practicing coitus interruptus
(Because there are some who insist on this kind of madness)
You grab the thing closest to you for clean up-detail
And that’s usually underwear on

The floor
The bed
The seat
The table
The sand
The mulch
The stairs
The elevator
The roof
The cubicle
Or the green grass

“I don’t want to talk to you”
“Okay”
“But we can meet for coffee and talk about this”

I thought about what she said
And for a moment
I looked at her
And her eyes were shinning
I saw myself copulating to death
With this middle-age woman
And how absurd that would be
The ritual of wasting time
The feeling of meaninglessness
That comes with loss of energy
And the vulnerability of risk

“No thank you…. forget I ever
Mentioned anything”

She just looked at me
And kept silent