After The General Patton Film With Sophia 1969 Poem by Terry Collett

We went and saw the General Patton film.
I say saw but actually it was just snatches
of it: you were all over me like an octopus.

I think you invaded my fly more times than
I cared to remember. We were at the back,
in the corner of the cinema. There was little
light except that from the screen reflected back
and the red dimmed lights from the wall at
the back. You kissed me more times than any
girl has kissed me in such a small space of time.

My right cheek was almost permanently damp
throughout the film. In the intermission you
sat beside me licking the fancy ice cream I'd
bought you. After the film I walked you home.

You said if your parents were out we could
maybe do things. It was a warm night and
the streets lights gave it an eerie orange glow.

Your parents were out when we got back to
your place. You said to come in so I followed
in to your parent's house. I was uncertain if it
was a good idea. If your old man came back
early and saw us I'd be dead meat. Just for
coffee you said. I went in the kitchen after you.

You made us coffee. You talked about your
room and the bed. How soft it was and you
had a small crucifix above your bed(your old
man's idea) . You said you'd show me. I declined.

You put on a sulky face. Just then your parents
returned home. Just as well I wasn't in your bed.

Your mother looked at me as if I'd sucked her breasts;
your old man gave you the lights on the face
third degree. Just having a coffee you said to him.

He ignored me. Ranted at you. You said after
your old man went off it is best you go. I left
and the street lights still had that orange glow.