Doing Europe

A group of giggling girls on table four
ask for the bill. Their taxi is waiting.
The day’s not over yet, the night is young;
there are plenty of shows in the metropolis.
“The Mousetrap” is still on, after ten years.
‘I wish I could come with you’, I sigh.
‘Which of us in particular?’ The redhead
enquires with a disarming smile.
‘All of you, of course’. I know it is a test;
I try to be clever and not give offence.
Diplomacy is after all my middle name
and sometimes it is best to sit on the fence.
They are tourists, ‘doing’ Europe in ten days.
First London, England; France and Italy next.
They are staying at an hotel in Park Lane.
I know this because the sexy minx
has slipped a piece of paper into my hands.

That was last night. Today I’m on cloud nine,
making love to a passionate ginger head
in that luxurious hotel in Park Lane.
We are in room 12b - there’s no thirteen,
it is considered unlucky by the guests. -
‘If my friend saw me, they’d say I’m insane.
We promised that when we arrived in Rome
we would not succumb to Latin charmers.
As this is London, that pledge doesn’t hold.’
Then suddenly the talk turns matrimonial:
‘When you get married’, she says, ‘I’d be glad
to give your prospective bride a testimonial
and put her mind at rest on your prowess.’
I begin to feel that she has a heart of gold
as well as having an insatiable appetite.
We exchange addresses and yet I know
I won’t be seeing this girl after tonight.

© Luigi Pagano 2010