50's and In Love
50’s and In Love
By Tony DeLorger © 2011
It took me by surprise,
like a hard slap across the face,
my hormones leapt from slumber,
and in surging recognition,
reminded me I was still alive,
and my heart worked, if not syncopated.
Oh how I fell,
in love and seventeen again,
with a few minor exceptions.
I am the ‘foreplay man’,
an expert, years of honed skills,
and now with my sleepy hormones awakened,
I am invincible,
three hours or more of tantalising, teasing entree,
relishing the delicate fancies of love.
Then, entangled and pushing forward,
Ahh! Leg cramp,
leaping from my cosy bed.
Shit that hurts, limping back to the covers.
Where were we, ah yes, into a deep passionate kiss.
Two weeks after an arthroscopy,
a stinging sensation zings through me,
I roll to the side, legs reaching for the sky.
Mum, can I have that last piece of cake in the fridge?
Shit! Grasping covers in a rather desperate manoeuvre.
Yes! she squeals,
a scarred teenager retreats to the kitchen.
Lock the bloody door! I say.
Can we swap sides? My neck’s hurting; it’s the angle.
Rustling sheets, entangled limbs;
what were we doing?
Just give me a minute, she says.
What time is it?
I turn slightly and the spur in my shoulder
reminds me I’m on the wrong side.
It’s 12.45am, I screech, as the pain slowly subsides.
Shit! How will we get up in the morning?
She turns and ever so gently touches my face,
Are you loved up, Sweetheart?
Never, I say in defiance.
Are you tired yet?
I loving kiss and I roll over,
adjusting my CPAP mask.
Darth Vader enters the room.
I squeeze her bum affectionately.
Our hands find each other.
Who’s kidding who?