Six Knocks

Fret not lost love so far away
When inspiration sits across a small table
Downstream from where river poets bemuse
Minutes away from  purchased passion
So fling a foul curse come morning
Or have nothing else to say at all
The lewd poet begging no approval
Whose words are they anyway ?
What we pen and what we say
Words taking a rare few somewhere else
The view from the edge of a king size bed
Warm bawdy thoughts swirl in his head
A thin, short, low-cut silk shift
And a seemingly accidentally dropped hotel cup
“Could you pick that up for me  please ?”
Eyes ascending the back of her well turned legs
Feigning sincere apologies for such clumsiness
A lewd poet and his Friday night muse
Inspiration enough for at least one poem
Never begging affectionate approval
A courtesan’s off season nightly rate
The lewd poet’s most special date
This poem being part of the bargain
“Your money up front” said the whore
Placed on the dresser behind a closed door
Paying well for affectionate maneuvers
Admirals, generals and out of town businessmen
Would often employ her expert services
Out of regular work this slow off season
She was still employable but drunk beyond reason
By a lewd working poet along with his overtime pay
Mescal flowing around lounge table advertising
Accepting a delicate hand motion invitation
Reintroductions of no special importance
Libations and lounge lizard logic
Haggling over hospitality in a Ramada Inn
It didn’t seem as anonymously  comfortable
As an old quaint cheap roadside motel
“I’m on the second floor, room number 206”
Leaving the lewd poet at a small table with a large drink
Enough cold cash stuffed in a warm coat pocket
Six knocks on the door as she requested
Just like last year around this same time
She usually worked the high end hotel scene
Here at the Ramada when times are lean
To the working lewd poet a small hard earned fortune
Never slighting in any off season specials
Ever appreciative of this annual off season session
Enjoying his company over officials and representatives
Ever looking forward to this one cold winter night
The soft night stand light hid well her age
This time seemed better than the last four
A DO NOT DISTURB sign hung on the door
She invited the lewd poet to stay all night
Lubricating libations and swirling inhibitions
Between passionate bouts, there was pillow talk
“Couldn’t be like this forever and ever ?”
An older courtesan’s slow business off season
Blissfully drunk beyond any good reason
Winding down into what just may be lasting love
A large savings and too much competition  for her age
Seemingly she found her true love despite his low wage
Those fond feelings did not survive the sobering morning
Nothing at all like last night’s delightful drunken bliss
She shooed him out into the cold day without a warm kiss
Just like last year around this same time