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The Tryst
to Thailand shall i go
on a Monday and you
shall leave on
a Thursday
Friday will be perfect
as we begin
understanding what
lovely pretense
can do
in bed i shall not utter
your name
shall you too must not
forget
what name i have
we are strangers here
away from their hatred
we meet in the same room
like a planned accident
we choose no word
we do what needs to be done
in an instant
knowing the value of each passing hour
i shall drink the juiciest in you
you shall eat the tenderness in me
and then on a Sunday
we pact and be back to our routines
no calls
just remembering what feelings were.
poem
by
Ric S. Bastasa
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