AFTER SUNDAY LUNCH.

A MAN IN DEEP THOUGHT ONE SUNDAY AFTER LUNCH IN THE 1970S

I was laying
on my stomach
on the grass
reading a book

Netanya was laying
on her back
soaking up
the sun

as if owed her rent
her blouse open
at the neck
her arms bare

her grey skirt
drawn up
above the knees
to brown off

her legs
how can you read
on a day like this?
she said

I can read any time
I said
you should be soaking up
the sun

getting your lily white
body tanned
I like my body
as it is

she closed her eyes
face upwards
I remembered the time
my brother and I

went down to the beach
at Dubrovnik
in our suits
and conceding

to the sun
took off our jackets
and rolled up
our shirt sleeves

revealing our white arms
I smiled
and turned a page
I sensed the sun's heat

on the my head
I’d turned my collar up
to protect my neck
from the burning heat

nearby birds sang
unsure which
far off
the hum of traffic

I smelt the after smell
of Sunday roast
and mint sauce
and tasted

the white wine
on my tongue
even with sunglasses
the glare of the sun

made reading
a chore
so I closed the book
and lay on my back

and stared at the sky
birds flew overhead
here and there
I thought of the girl

who served in the café
in Dubrovnik
whom my brother and I
chatted up

with no results
she with her broken English
and we with no clue
when she spoke

her native tongue
we drank wine then
too much some days
then Netanya came along

and that night
we made love
half a dozen times
and the world seemed

a different place
as if someone
had turned a light on
in a dark house

and it was seen
for the first time
then the light
had become dim

and the house
like a prison
a child cried
in the background

another child laughed
the neighbour's kids
no doubt
a dog barked

a woman called out
a man snored
the sun shone bright
I closed my eyes

the book remained closed
I dozed.