Drinking in the crisp clean waters
of the pianist next to me.
Soaking up the worldly pleasures of the female melody.
My mind and heart so parched from a lack of lust.
Graciously devouring all offerings to me
mechanical,
obligatory.
My new companion tinks away at the ivories.
Assuring me, that all might not be well,
but all is as it should be.
Maybe,
if I'm lucky-
The music will make love to me,
while her body makes music
My trained, but curious fingers
blundering about in the darkness.
Chords, solos, duets.
Complex arias tickled accidentally, and sour notes bashed cantankerously.
All in an experiment.
No discipline.
No style emerging.
All just a self gratifying exploration in exercise.
Wait
strike that
reverse it.
As I bite into sweet smelling flesh,
I recall that I have things to do today.
A momentary catastrophic blip on my relaxing wasted afternoon.
Another day perhaps.
Another lesson, maestra?