THE MORNING AFTER

She hopscotches the distance between them;
A bundle of flying clothes
And out-flung arms.
She closes her eyes
And clasps her fingers
Around his neck
Draws his head down;
Her savage lips
Seeking his Finding them
Holding them
In a clinging embrace
And then she releases him
Shaking the rice out of her gown
That threatens to trip her every now and then
She decides that
They don't have the same taste....
The morning after
She takes in
From their rented rooms-
The tear reddened tableau
The tranquil silhouettes
Of the southern sun
Slanting into the Indian Ocean
She contemplates
Ponders over
The meaning of his actions
He's left her today to attend to his affairs
Now they've got their lives ahead
She begins to miss him again
She looks out of the window
Imagines his face
Just like yesterday
In the meantime
Someone else, 27, chemical engineer, wildlife enthusiast, lanky, from Marseille;
Has come along and taken her away
Even with the rooftop view and the warm bathtub
She admits feeling a little touche
She tries to shout out aloud
And nothing comes out
But boy, what a beautiful day!