The Hungry Widow

Sex ceases to be spontaneous
in this Age of Aids
but there are compensations
and time to prepare
and you need it if you've
been sharing your bedroom
with an incontinent cat as I have
and you're almost sixty-five
and don't lubricate as you once did
and the handsome-hunk housepainter
who's fifty at the most
and the object of masturbatory
fantasies all spring
drops in to tell me
he'd seen my breasts one morning
when my pegnoir gaped and he wants me
but his brother's in the car
so he'd like to make love to me Saturday.
I would like that too I say.
After a few tentative kisses and groping
that don't live up to my fantasies
he goes away and I start preparing.

I went to the pet store and bought
a deodorizer for cat urine
and shampooed my rug.

I went to a pharmacy where I'm not known
and asked in a frosty voice
for a recommended lubricant named Astral-glide.
"Astro-glide," corrected the gentle giant
who held out the two available sizes.
I pretended to read the labels
and took the large economy size
although a drop would do.

I carried tons of paper out of my bedroom
and stacked them on the guestroom bed
re-lined my bedroom drapes
with a paperclip-hung, king-size sheet
that would shed a kindlier light upon the scene.

On Friday morning I went to the market
bought flowers, canteloupe, Persian melon
raspberries strawberries and peaches;
In case he wanted Belgian waffles
I added pecans, whipped cream
sweet butter and lingonberry jam.
I went to the best Swiss bakery bakery and bought
fresh croissants and a coffee cake called Paradise.

Friday afternoon I went to a beauty salon
and had a facial, a manicure and a pedicure
a shampoo and a set designed to hold up in bed.

Humming Pretty Woman all the way to get up nerve
I went into another pharmacy where I was unknown
to ask the pharmacist for an assortment
of his best condoms.
A stuffy pedant, he said there was no such thing.
He said it all depended-
did l want to prevent pregnancy or disease?
I told him I thought at my age
we could focus on the latter
so I bought two packages laden with spermicide
just in case my painter forgot.

Last of all I set up a patio chair on my balcony
convenient for a post-coital cigarette
and went to bed early to be ready for morning-
the scent of night blooming stock in my nostrils-
my puzzled cat curled at my feet.

-- Anne Marple