The talk

She walked through the door, sat opposite me,
Re-crossed her legs and ordered mint tea.
Her cigarette smouldered between her glossed lips,
Her tight crimson skirt hugged her full hips.

"I know what you want," she said a bit later.
I would have replied, but that would have made her
Go off the deep end, so I kept shtoom.
Her voice and grey smoke filled up the room.

Of course, she then kept on for several hours
In that voice of hers that always devours
All vestige of calm I carefully gather
Along with my thoughts ( not that it'd matter).

At last she stubbed out her last-but-one ciggie,
Edged a bit closer...I felt quite giddy.
Her gaze held mine, now I was transfixed
As she growled slowly: "I keep the kids."