Amsterdam

The taxi took us to a suburb of Amsterdam;
we alighted and I promptly paid the fare.
‘You better go back now’, she warned me,
‘at midnight, around here, the cabs are rare.’

But it would have been cruel to let her go
after her near-orgasm on the back seat:
her muted moans of pleasure were such
that they promised a more rewarding treat.

The lights were still on, in the top floor flat.
‘My mum’, she said with sadness on her face.
So in the hazy glow of a three-quarter moon,
a lamp post bore the weight of our embrace.

We clung to each other, fumbling in the night,
careful to stifle any cry, lowering our voice.
We gave way to our emotions with passion
knowing vertical coition was the only choice.

We said our goodbyes, now friends for ever
although we had just met that very day.
After exchanging phone numbers we parted.
Whether it was true love I could not say.

She didn’t return my calls so we lost touch.
I was a one-night stand and she didn’t care.
But in one respect she had told the truth:
I walked all the way to Rembrandt Square.

© Luigi Pagano 2010