Sex after seventy—I was just getting
to that. But first, pull the covers up.
If you could just let me say it
like it is.

Hold my foot between your palms.
Don’t let me interrupt the proceedings.
Don’t look. Better yet,
turn out the lights.

This isn’t our first rodeo after all.
Last time I thought I had run off 
with the handsomest knife thrower
in the circus. 

Everyone knows it’s futile 
to try to match wits with a 
septuagenarian. Let’s not talk—
unless we need to.

All we should say is “wow” in amazement   
at the trick—the way a magician  
might pull a tiger out of a top hat 
by its whiskers.