Not long after my encounter with Lorraine*
(At twenty-nine the loins are rather restless)
Two months, nineteen days later - the time frame
(I went to a bordello - I confess this).
Sometimes to go with a "girl on the game"
Is all I have (though they will never kiss)
'Cept for this poem - I will kiss and tell -
Another memory - and I may as well.

If ever you're in Sydney, near Rockdale**
And find yourself down by the Seven Ways
(It's not so far from where Cook*** once did sail
Though a fair bit has changed since those days).
This is where you may come to avail
Your self of some of the finest ladies -
Well, at any rate, most are rather sweet -
Go at night if you want to be discreet.

So there I was, I entered the bordello -
The fabric on the walls was finest silk.
On that night I was a restless fellow -
(As I suppose were many of my ilk).
I felt like a prince (somewhat like Othello
Was). I went there to seek affection's milk -
Exchange the money for this one hour's trade
To play at love - though only its charade.

The girls came out, I chose one - she was Tori
(Her working name was this at any rate).
She now forms the subject of my story -
Part of the fabric time has made my fate.
She'd be surprised to be in my poetry
Long ago on a double bed, she sate.
It didn't take so long though to disrobe
On a chair by the bed now were our clothes.

Her hair was black - in ringlets and in curls
With skin as pale as the moon - alabaster
And sweet unlike so many working girls
(Who think only about the money); now her
Soft body spoke of intimacy's Worlds
Two spirits joined in this time and place were.
Skin on skin - a type of electricity
Which I write of in my eccentricity.

I came to worship close to Venus' mount
I bow before my lady (now Goddess)
And seek to find creation by this fount
Where tenderness is in her hot caress.
To make this hour something that would count
(And worthy of a story to confess).
I bow before my lady - taste her sweet
Soon two souls in the dark are made complete.

The hour was gone and that hour gone too soon
From below I hear the madam ring her bell;-
And thus we must vacate our private room -
So broken now is intimacy's spell; -
Though for that hour we played a lover's tune.
You can guess the rest of what I do not tell
Now my poetry has paid its deference -
Another notch on the belt - experience.

So there you have it, now its bye bye pride
Another angel fallen in her grace.
Not someone I would choose to make my bride
(Though to be fair she had a pretty face).
In this poem, there's nowhere left to hide -
(Just the circumstance of that time and place)
Sometimes - it seems - we're searching for that light -
My loneliness was banish'd on that night.




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