Lunch

Where shall we lunch
somewhere dark and busy
No one will notice
slumbrous eyes and softened spine
I could reach a foot under the table
twirl my hair like a girl
flash my wrists
stare at your mouth loving its curves
Or shall we lunch in bright politeness
where all I can do
is stroke the smooth linen
or a flower
And try not to toast the rolls
with the glitter from my eyes