Dalya's Moan 1974 Poem by Terry Collett

The Yank bitch
shares my tent
yaks about the guys
she's had and how
and where
as if I care.

Ever read Sartre?
she says
all that existential stuff?

I say I have
just to get her
off my case.

We make our
own luck
she says.

I smoke
and study the tent
how the stained blue
looks cheap.

I wonder how often
it's been used
on these trips.

Did I tell you
of that guy
in Hamburg?
she says.

No I say
although she may.

Well he had this
big tool and I mean big
she yaps on
and spreads
her arms wide.

I said to him
you could fish
with that.

She laughs.

I smile picturing it
and did you?
I say.

Of course
she says
never turn down
a good seeing to.

The smoke drifts
from the cigarette
and floats about my head.

I wish Benny was here
and not her
wish it was him
lying there like her
completely bare.