No Modern Girl

Your eyes told me at the door.
You hid and conveyed your desire
As women do. The extra sway as
You passed by was for me, I knew
And knew that I could have you if

I asked the right way. Tall, blonde;
Crowding thirty but not there yet.
Guarded eyes and that proud,
Disdainful look women get when
They have anything to do with

Men for any length of time. The
Darting, sideways glances that
Gave way to more caressing gazes
As the evening progressed until
A little slip of paper materialized

With your phone number. A big girl,
What we used to call womanly,
Ripe, lush figure, no flat-chested
Boy’s-assed modern girl. No,
You were old-school, frank breasts

And sturdy thighs and long legs
And that little dome of stomach I
Love to caress from behind reaching
Around. I wanted you for some
Unapologetic fucking, wanted to

Methodically and quickly strip you
Out of that tight black skirt and blue
Sweater with little stars and lay you
Down and thrust and thrust into you
Hearing you moaning and feeling that

Lubricated writhing beneath me and
The clutching that presages your ending
And that rhythm two lovers establish
As they ride each other to climax and the
Breathless slowing of the after.