After the dance, what then?
To please the waiting men
At the door? To go off for a drink
Or two and end in some bed
For sex and sleep
With some paying creep?
Or ought I to sneak out, Mina muses,
And go with Albertine
And not be seen
By all the prying eyes
And judging minds?
Lat time we made love
In that small bed of hers
And heaven seemed
But smaller thus beside
For there was not an inch
Of love lost or left to hide.
The ballet keeps me
From the streets
As best it can,
I do not need to sleep or wrestle
With that painter man,
But time will come
And age degree
That other things will come
And undo me.
Adding your comment: