He is sleeping in a strange bed
For the right person. He sees her dead
Asleep, jaded and farded face
Odour of jojoba; ballooned bosom beneath the lace
Canoodling;
He is fond of these girls
A feeling that nocturnally unfurls.
She is an admirable woman
Unable to stick on to a single man
Cameleon;
She turns around like baby to milk-familiar comforting mother;
He was her former hubby, she shirks, collects her dignity and coils into a corner;
Commination;
Culmination of all characterless emotion;
Adjustment , and not abandonment , is a humane function;
Inebriation clouds his faculties
He lusts forward unmindful of affinities.
