Around his house, here and there,
women’s clothes she did not wear.
Did former lovers leave them here
“Probably,” he said, “my dear.”
“Should I be jealous, now?”
she asked, crinkling her lovely brow.
“Oh, jealousy is such a pain,”
he answered, casually, again,
“Monogamy is not my thing,
so don’t go bringing anger in,
or we shall quarrel - what’s the point?
Putting each other out of joint!”
“I used to think,” she archly said,
“I’d let none share my dear man’s bed.”
“Oh, fiddle sticks,” he gaily cried,
“You’re just working up your pride
and when you’ve done so, what then?
I don’t mind if you date men
and have experience worth discussing
in the lulls when we’re not kissing.”
“You are an extraordinary man
to tell his woman that she can
go out with other people too
and say it does not bother you.”
“If we were twenty still and fecund
I’d not want you having a second,
but as we’re older, wiser, free
I much prefer the mystery
of having a woman who lives a full life
rather than a meek little wife.
“So do you have a paramour now?”
she asked, inwardly juggling how
she would respond to what he’d say.
“Not regular, but when I’m away
I sometimes find a little treasure
with whom to have some carnal pleasure.
It pleases me - does you no harm -
if I enjoy another’s charm.”
“We seem now to have crossed a line,”
she said, “with me it’s fine.
I’d like to tell you, if you will,
about my friend, his name is Bill…”
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