There’s a capital “M” he says,
munching on a pork meatball.
He sizes me up
and dresses me down
with his eyes.
He says he used to box,
and that he smokes.
And no, of course studying Science
doesn’t contradict faith.
A man of few words,
he manages to find enough
to order wine
and tell me I’m a sensation in bed
- or was it the desk
or the table
or the floor?
Anyhow, I pray
I won’t see him again.