'By all love's soft, yet mighty powers, '
: Lord John Wilmont


by now
all he can remember,
curl of red on a flower bud.
That is how he knew her then.
Oh, he had opened her with his tongue
her tulip lips, they fluttered,
welcomed the horny sun-
of-a- gun unsheathed by her fingers.
After that it was pretty much
the same as always. Ecstasy.
But hard to breathe beneath
unsatiable animal fury.
He whistled and avoided a kiss goodbye,
anyway he got a free ride
out of town and on to the next.
He still smells the flower
every time he does it alone
in an empty bed.
Nameless in missing memory holes
he hums the eponym he can’t recall,
softly it carries him off
for now.

by now
she is fat and frustrated
no more hot throbbing clam.
That is how it was on the beach back then
her pussy lips, they quivered,
absorbed in pleasure
waiting for the inevitable.
It was pretty much the same.
Ecstasy. The smell of unwashed fisherman
invaded the cool night air.
No faking satisfaction with screams
she got a free ride
She was on top in her world.
His name was indelible,
nom de plume, I think he said.
She repeated it and wondered what it meant
English was her language
His performance wasn’t that good,
hedone-ism is what she called it.
His memory was better,
better than nothing
for now.

Alan Bender

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/1-hard-time-forgotten/