To me, you will always be Friday
because you found me on that day.
Though not through followed footprints in the sand
Just steps across a sawdust floor to where I sat,
Sleek as a parrot, in the bar of a Bristol Inn.
Taking shelter in your room, we gave ourselves to agricultural pursuits.
Back bent, you ploughed my furrow with your basic tool
And when you spread your seed, I tasted salt on midnight skin.
Then dawn broke and hunkered down you fucked me like a boy,
While scent of sandalwood drifted on the air
And the slave ships weighed anchor in the bay.
